Shangri-La
by TheFat1
Summary: Worm OC. An 8-year-old gains powers after a suicide attempt gone wrong, and has to deal with his depression and absurd amount of power. Begins a few months before Worm starts. Powers are based on the Avatar, combined with a variant on Labyrinth's power.
1. Creation 1-1

Creation 1.1

Two beings spiral through the void, following a dance not even they know, falling towards an infinite set of planets, intent on continuing a cycle.

One is impacted by a third; The Thinker becomes that much more versatile, new possibilities blooming like a field of fractal flowers.

The Thinker sends a flurry of decisions to the parts of itself crafting the cycle; one such part that creates unique shards to test for future cycle formats begins its work, searching for examples of true unity among the infinite worlds, ones that would still work with the chosen cycle form. It finds a handful of worlds, and begins sorting through them for any viable means of creating a cycle.

It takes each example and sets supershards to work analyzing and emulating the symbiotic relationships. One in particular is focused on, due to the versatility and demonstrated ability to adapt already shown.

A single reality; an anomaly, as it were; wherein a world of intangible beings had little to no dimensional barrier to a world of the more common sentient life of this planet-set, and they turned, not to violence between themselves, but to symbiosis, and grew beyond each lifeform's own ability. This would be the Test; this shard would see if this _symbiosis_ was really viable and preferable for the cycle.

The Thinker, lost in visions of a new future, a refined cycle, draws closer to the planet, heedless of the warnings from its Warrior.

The supershard was set to work on the first Symbiosis shard. Future buds would follow a similar layout to the first, but the first must be made correctly or else the test would fail before it ever started. It replaced the bond with the being with a shard bond, offloading host control directly to the shard for the protective state, so as to _defend_ the host body; this would allow the host to live longer, and thus the shard would gather more data. For the same reasons, it added increased learning capacity for physical combat techniques, to better gather data more quickly; and finally, began to remove-

The Thinker crashes into a subset of the planets, and shards are flung off blindly, without targets. Many fail to find an adequate host quickly enough, instead going dormant and awaiting recollection; some are fully formed enough to find a target, one similar to their original intended hosts. One such shard is Symbiosis.

As it flies, destined to come down halfway through the cycle, an infinitesimally unlikely event occurs; it hits another shard, one from the Warrior. They fuse, and are forced to find a host sooner rather than later, before they become too unstable.

They find a host in mid-fall.

-Shangri-La-

I didn't want this. Not like this, not by accident. I just wanted to be listened to, to be seen, and to feel like someone cared.

I fell from the third story window, my life flashing before my eyes.

-Shangri-La-

I was an extremely sheltered kindergartener, taken to my grandma's house because my mom was unconscious again. I didn't understand.

I was riding in the car, being asked if I wanted to go to a better school, then ignored when I said I didn't want to leave my friends. I didn't understand.

I was in first grade, a new school, ridiculed for how fast I learned, laughed at for how little I knew about the world, and books became my only friends. I didn't understand.

I was in second grade, and my life was falling apart. I was smart, but smarts don't stop bullies, or keep your dad nearby, or stop you from moving, or keep your one new friend in town. Smarts don't stop your brain from betraying you, your eyes from weakening. They don't even help you get the attention of your mother, not on a bad day. I didn't understand.

I was in third grade, and I understood. Life wasn't fair. People can be broken. Nobody can think of a third grader as a person capable of logic, and no amount of trying can help. Bullies don't get better, they triple down, and anyone who reaches out is hurt too. Not physically, they know they would be caught- just little things, things you can't respond to, things your sheltered upbringing didn't understand but now you _do_ , and it hurts more every day and your counselor doesn't realize how bad it is and you just want it to stop.

I wanted it to just _stop._

-And now, I wanted to keep going, because despite that, I had brothers and I understood my mother now and oh god why did I do this-

They found me in the windowsill, sobbing. I imagined it as a call for help, talking me down as I pour my heart out and they _listen_ for once.

Instead, my mother charged at me, to pull me down. I couldn't tell if it was anger or fear on her face, and recoiled, and lost my balance, and fell headfirst towards the rock garden, thirty feet below.

The ground was coming up so fast-

 ** _Destination_**

 ** _Agreement_**

And I saw vast things.

And then there was pain.

And then I blacked out.

-Shangri-La-

I dreamt of an endless mountain range, beautiful and harsh, with shimmering waterfalls and peaks that scraped the sky. The silence was broken only by the wind, and a distant thundercloud that dwarfed any of the peaks in view. The thunder sent an occasional rolling boom, echoed a million times through the intervening valleys, sounding almost like a conversation between the earth and the sky.

I remembered impressions of vast things spiraling in a void, but that wasn't right. I wasn't a whale, or a parasite, or a god. I was a third grader. I was a boy. I was human, and my name was Michael Bryan Vanderbilt. That was strange, I never had problems remembering before.

Speaking of which… I felt… odd. Like there was more to the world around me. Like the wind could listen, the ground could respond, and the snow could reach out to me. Like the cold would leave me be, for now. Was I dreaming? I reached out to pinch myself-

The thunder boomed. The storm was right above me now, like I had been here for hours. I covered my ears at the sound, and dived into the snow- and got a face full of mud. I looked up in confusion, finding myself in a grassy plain. The rain trickled off of me, singing quiet rhythms at me in harmony with the winds, while the thunder hit a beat with the ground. I tried to find a landmark, but only managed to sight a tree. I stumbled towards the tree, but lightning struck it, and as the thunder crashed, it caught fire. I could feel the fire from here, and the heat was-

Everywhere, much like the flames. It crackled both aloud and in my head, so much that I barely noticed the change of scenery. I felt it consume, I felt it grow, I felt it die out. I heard the hiss of a torrent of rain barely reaching the forest floor, and the pops of trees exploding as they were eaten. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered why the heat felt so real. This was a dream, right? The thunder-

Stopped, mid-clap. I was in a hall of shining metal and crystal, and it was _singing_. A haunting, unknowable melody rang through the hall, a beautiful harmony and melody and _else_ twining together like a symphony of light. I lay there, lost, for ages, before hearing a repeating note in the music. I tried to listen closer to the high note-

And opened my eyes to a room. A small, white room with a smell of disinfectant to it, and a heart monitor hooked up, beeping a steady note. A hospital room. I was in a hospital room. It slowly came back to me as to why I would be here. What had happened before my –Dream? Vision Quest? Other? To put me here. I braced myself for a long conversation, and sat up.

Ow. Cast on my arm, guessing it's broken. Also, _OWWW_. I grit my teeth and looked around. Nobody here, guessing I've been out a bit. Guess I should be happy to be alive. Also, not feeling right upstairs, probably a contusi - a concuussss- a head injury. And what was that dream? It felt so _real_. I could still feel the air humming, the liquid in the IV mumbling a bit on its way down to me, and the heat from inside crackling along, sedate, but present. I must be pretty out of it.

I lay there a bit, arm aching from the movement before, and figured I'd call for a nurse, get it over with. I reached with my unbroken arm, and hit the call button. After a minute, a man arrived, and I asked him to get my family. Or tried to, since nothing came out. I gestured for water, and he passed it to me, but after a sip, nothing. A gulp, nothing. He looked worried, now, and asked if I was alright. I couldn't answer. I _couldn't answer_.

I finally broke down. I had almost lost my life to make a point, and had lost my voice as well. I liked my voice. It wasn't my only good feature, but it was my most treasured after my memory and reading ability. I sang like an angel, did decent impressions, and hummed along to my favorite songs. I may be exaggerating on the first two, but it was _my voice_. Or was. How I wish I knew more cuss words right now, even though I could never say them. More, I wanted to say 'I love you' or 'I'm sorry' one more time to my family, to explain this out loud to them, to shout, to cry, to laugh.

I was still silently sobbing when my family came.


	2. Creation 1-2

Creation 1.2

My family consisted of my mother, Aurora Vanderbilt (no relation), a heavyset woman with a kind face and greying auburn hair, and my two brothers, David, a towering 15-year-old with curly black hair and glasses, and Jordan, a very recent 7 year old with wavy honey-brown hair. They were quick to rush to my bedside upon entering the room; I was quickly surrounded by my (probably worried) family, and showered in hugs (owowow) and questions, which I would have given anything to answer aloud.

Instead, I wriggled my good arm free from the group hug, wiped my eyes, and pantomimed a pencil. After one was fetched and my eyes were dry, I began to write. I hated writing, and it hated me back. I always found it so hard to express my thoughts well, and often lost track of what I planned to say as my thoughts moved on. Regardless, I couldn't speak – God, it still hurt to think that – so writing and typing would have to do.

Important things first: 'I'm so sorry about all this.' I figured the first thing to start with was an apology, followed by reasons and reper- aftermath. Stupid head. Apparently, my older brother agreed with that last thought.

"Stop there, Michael. I know you were hurting, and it's on us for not recognizing and talking to you about it. The only thing you did wrong was sitting in a window instead of taking your problems to one of us," said David, looking at me with a sad but firm expression. "Suicide is an important issue up at Arcadia, and the first thing they teach is to watch for warning signs. I missed them because I wasn't looking out for you."

My mom looked down and said, "I'm sorry too. I should've noticed. I promise, we'll get you a counselor, and I'll do my best to help you. But right now, sweetie, we have another big issue."

Another issue? What could be more important than my near death? Didn't she want to know why? I know she was trying, but it felt like I was just being belittled again.

My thoughts were cut short when Jordan piped up, "Yeah, You need a costume and stuff!" It took a second to process, then another few seconds to really hit me.

I needed a costume because I have powers. I'm a cape.

I thought back to the dream that felt too real, the spiraling things in the void, the singing and humming, and the little hints. It made sense; I either had powers, or I was crazy. It felt like a big joke to me, like at some point Jordan would go "Just kidding!" and the feelings would disappear, the dream would fade, and I would get my voice back. In the background, I saw David put his hand to his brow, and Mom wrapped my hand in hers. I took a minute to think, then asked on my pad, 'That explains a bit. What now?'

My brother answered. "Well, we have a few options. You can join the Wards – You know about them, right? You'd be young, but it's a safe option for the backup. We can just go up and get your powers tested, then let you decide from there. Or, if you prefer to ignore them, I'm sure we can keep it a secret, or pretend you don't have powers. Lastly, I'm not too sure on this, but we could see if your powers are useful in business or entertainment, and maybe let you use them for that."

I needed a minute to take that all in, and wrote as much. Thank you for not breaking my right arm, ground. Anyways, the Wards sounded like the best fit for me. I certainly wouldn't be able to ignore it, not now that I knew the singing wasn't a concussion. Huh, I got it that time. The music pulled at me, and the only reason I hadn't tried something was that I didn't think a hospital was a good place to start ranting about dreams and songs after a –that. Street performer sounded nice, but with the gangs and stuff, it probably wouldn't work out to be safe. Not to mention I had no idea what the singing did. Also, I needed a better name than singing. Resonance? Hum? Hum was shorter, but resonance fit better, so I'd try them both.

I decided to do the Wards. It'd probably be like Cub Scouts, and I needed some friends these days. Besides, as we talked it out, it seemed that Wards membership got us some extra cash, and while child support is helpful, apparently it doesn't always cover our bills, if overheard conversations are anything to go by. That set aside, I asked what the damage was.

Mom frowned. "Well, the doctors said you got lucky, although I think that had something to do with the number your powers did to the rock garden," -"It's a crater!" Jordan chimed in- "But you have a concussion, a broken left humerus and dislocated shoulder, and according to you, lost your voice, hopefully not permanently." She sighed. "Michael, I know this is a lot to take in, and I've already excused you from school for at least the next week and a half, but I want you to know that we love you, baby, and we're going to work through this together, as a family." Jordan hugged my arm as tears came to my eyes, surrounded by my family, and feeling more in touch with them now than I had since kindergarten.

We sat like that awhile, happy in the silence, until a nurse brought lunch? Dinner? No windows, no clock, no asking, and I didn't care. I was hungry, and apparently out for a day or so, so I ate like a starving man at a buffet. The food was surprisingly good, too. Hamburger steak and potatoes, green beans, and a bowl of melon, all still hot, and chocolate milk to go with it. I guess the hospital had a decent cafeteria, because unless I was getting special treatment, this was certainly worth getting mildly injured for. Not that a day unconscious was minor, but boy was it good.

I might be a little loopy.

Anyway, I then had to say goodbye to my family, who needed to get back to school. Apparently it was Monday, just past lunch. I… fell Saturday afternoon. Almost 2 days off in power-concussion-dreams. I was lucky to just be loopy. Anyway, they headed to finish their days, and I dealt with nurses and doctors poking me in painful places and pulling out various painful tubes and tube accessories, and then my Mom returned with the Wards paperwork.

We spent the next few hours looking through the various upsides and downsides of it all; therapy would be covered by their own counselor (Goodbye to my old one, good riddance!); I would get a decent college fund, maybe even enough to do more than a bachelor's due to my age; I would get a spending account, they would make my costume and stuff, and I would have people like me to talk to. Also being a reality-changing famous person who fought for justice.

Downsides included loss of control over my schedule, PR stuff, and occasional injury (all a bit more extreme than school was, but familiar), backed by an awesome health plan and world class hospital. Also, taking orders without too much wiggle room, but again, that was just school for me. As for the other downsides, I was fairly sure my mother would listen to me on most decisions she got input on. I didn't know what my powers were yet, but if I could take the fight to the Endbringers, I would only be stopped by them forcing me to stay back. I wouldn't sit back and watch while others around me fought, unless going to help wouldn't help in the slightest.

Besides, they would probably be able to get my bullies to back off, at least indirectly. There was very little they could directly do, as my bullies rarely broke rules, just talked and shunned. Even if they couldn't help, a competent therapist who didn't look at me as just a child would be plenty towards at least dealing with my problems, real or mental.

Eventually, we got them all signed, to be turned in as soon as I was able to leave the hospital. My mom then asked me if I wanted her to stay overnight, since a quick check made it clear that I could not leave today. I shook my head, then wrote that I needed to think about everything, and to get home to take care of the brothers before the house burned down. With a faked look of worry, a laugh, and a kiss on the cheek, she was gone, and I was left with my dinner and my thoughts.


	3. Creation 1-3

Creation 1.3

I had a lot to process, and a decent bit of time to myself to go over it all. First, to reaffirm my midair epiphany; I was _not suicidal_. I was not going to be suicidal. I would not try that, or anything like it, ever again.

Even though I felt somewhat hollow, and certainly thought differently from my fellow-aged classmates, I had forgotten the good times. The playing with my family; the unconditional love of a pet; the worlds in the pages of a book. I would have regretted every second I had given up if there was indeed a next life, and would have taken something from those who loved me that I had no reason to take. No, I would never wish to die needlessly, and would no longer value my life (or others') so lowly.

Secondly; I had powers. I was a cape. I needed to know what my powers were, and how to use them. Much of this would wait until later, but I was definitely going to try the dreams again. I could feel them, now that I focused on the idea; like an endless book of treasures, each a shimmering jewel just out of sight. I couldn't _count_ them, and I felt that the more I looked, the less _here_ I would be.

The hum of the air was still there, and the orange juice I was drinking was faint, but present in my mind. I could _sort of_ tune out the music, and ignore the jewels, but only a little; luckily, they weren't too distracting, not any more than anything else was; heck, they might give me something to fiddle with, help curb my ADD. Regardless, I would wait until tonight to try anything at all.

Next, there was the Wards. I tried to remember what I could about them; there were 6 or 7 of them in the Bay, and it was mostly boys. I remembered Aegis and Kid Win, Triumph, and Clockblocker, and I think that one had something to do with paintings or landscapes or something, but I couldn't remember much about them.

I knew the Protectorate team fairly well; they came by our school for an assembly once. Armsmaster was in charge there, and he seemed like the kind of adult I could maybe chat with; a straight to the point, no nonsense person, gruff but apparently fair. As for the PRT, they weren't very public. I had no idea who the Director was, but since the paperwork said the Wards reported to him/her, I figured I'd find out soon enough.

Finishing the last bite of my meatloaf, I wrote a note to thank the cooks for their delicious work (and wishing I could tell them myself), and called a nurse to come get it. I then decided to see what happened if I closed my eyes and tried to 'touch' one of the 'jewels'.

A feeling of choice between pushing it out, and it pulling me in. I let it pull me in, and – disorientation, noticing the pain disappear. I opened my eyes. I was lying in a quaint little meadow, flowers dotting the grass in splashes of color, trees surrounding it, with rivers flowing through the skies above me. Wait, what? I checked, and yes, there were rivers. In the air. Flowing between the _flying mountains_.

My power was strange. My power…was _awesome._

I looked around for a while, taking it all in. The rainbows of light from the winding sky-rivers, the mountains floating lazily like clouds on a calm day. The clouds flowing through them all like a shimmering fog. I finally, regretfully tore myself away from it all, and focused instead on the steady beat of my resonance on the ground beneath my feet. I tried to harmonize, tears burning my eyes as I remembered my voice was gone. Not vocal then. I tried to reach out with my mind, add a beat, but nothing. A pang of sadness; I would've looked so cool like that, regardless of whatever my powers did. Wait, _add a beat._ I tried to tap my foot, and felt the slightest addition to it, which disappeared soon after. A stomp, and the ground shifted. It felt off-key, though. Like playing the wrong part of the melody for that section of the song.

I danced a little jig. Barely a response.

I tried a conductor pose. I could _sort of_ feel something, but not in the ground.

Maybe a backflip? If so, I was doomed to be powerless.

In desperation, I tried one more thing; a basic form from my single month of Tae-kwon-do, a forward step with a firm stomping finish. I didn't expect much, just thought it might, maybe, do something; I certainly didn't expect a chunk of rock to burst from the grass, fly weakly up a foot or two, then fall back down. Nor did I expect that upon falling back in surprise, flailing my arms, to be cushioned slightly by a freak wind. Or the feeling of two disparate parts of my resonance coming into a simple melody for a moment.

Okay, for some reason, martial arts were my name, and at least two parts of my game might be identified. (Side note, powers were _weird_. Why martial arts? Would I have to do poses and stuff like a power ranger?) Anyway, I suspected the others were water, and maybe fire or heat, based on the forest fire. It fit; if I remembered right, the classical elements were earth, water, air, and fire, plus ether or aether or something, and sometimes void. Yay for mythology books! I had at least felt all four of those, so it stood to reason that I could move them all. Also, Element for a cape name wasn't bad, but I bet somebody probably had it already. And it didn't get the dream thingy.

Anyway, I needed to find a volcano or something, I had to find water and fire. I really wanted to confirm this stuff.

I reached to the gems again, picking one at random. I did my best to memorize the one I was currently standing in, and let myself be pulled. Disorientation; then I appeared atop a mesa, golden skies overhead. The sky was gold like a sunset, but no true light source was visible; it was as if the sky faintly glowed a pulsing, banded gold from all sides at once, with motes of brighter gold roving here and there across the expanse. The mesa was of bluestone, like the rocks of Stonehenge; indeed, giant monoliths dotted the landscape atop it.

The monoliths were detailed with etchings, carved in strange patterns like some forgotten geometry of power. They were spotted with lichens like pads of sliver ore, glimmering in the golden light, and outlining the carvings upon the great stones. The land below the singular mesa was cracked with riverbeds, and had the occasional ruin of a palace of grand and royal scale, covered in a scarlet ivy, while purple-blue grass stretched between. It was all stained a majestic, faint sepia by the light above.

It was alien. It was wondrous. It made me sad, knowing I would have to leave it behind, to search for water and fire. I could spend years in each of these gems, and I had an endless array of them to choose from. I wished life could pause, that I could live in these for a time, an eternity, and…

No.

That was no better than suicide.

I tore myself away from the view, the anger at myself growing, burning for an outlet. I punched the nearest monolith, and as I did, it dented inward and fire burst back at me, curling out from the impact point. I sank to my knees, torn - between happiness at this discovery, and loss - at the reality that my dreams now felt, not like an inviting and wondrous place, but like they were trying to possess me, to entice me to leave my family. Worse, to leave my body intact, but unresponsive, a stark reminder that I was just out of reach. My dreams were now real, and of terrible, conquering majesty; a harmless allure that could lead to my loss of all I had just realized was so important to me.

Darn it, I needed a therapist. I needed _somebody_ to talk to about this, at least.

I was so frustrated, so sad, so hopeless. I just wanted peace, and instead, I was being thrust into a new world of changes. I couldn't even _communicate_ my problems. Everything was so hard to put into words, and now I couldn't even let go a stream of consciousness by talking. How would I describe the horror of my power's beauty to others? How could I ever explain my real feelings on a subject, when any thought would, by necessity, be delayed for a time before others could hear it? Would a therapist even be able to help? My last ones hadn't, and I could _talk_ to them.

I gave up on power testing for the night; crushing despair took all the fun out of it. I pushed away from the alien landscape, opening my eyes in my bed. I needed the time, and some more water, so I called a nurse. It was 11:18 pm, and as I halfheartedly tested what I could with my good hand, I found that water seemed to respond best to flowing motions, like drawing strings on a harp or stroking a dog. After a while I noticed I didn't feel tired. I was always a late sleeper, but it had to be like 1 in the morning now. Maybe my power compensated for sleep while I was out. Great. I guess that would be something to point out in power testing.

The jewels were still there, feeling like they hovered just out of sight, only now I was no longer happy with their presence. I didn't want the beauty they offered, I wanted to talk, to laugh, and to dream. I would trade it all for that.

Six hours later, I was still lying in bed, still not tired in the slightest, bored out of my mind, and still wishing I could take it back.


	4. Creation 1-4

Creation 1.4

That morning, Mom came by to pick me up. It took a bit, with a doctor advising me to not move the arm too much, and to avoid any strikes to the head or whiplash for at least a week. He also gave me a prescription for pain medicine, and told us to come back in a week to remove the cast, assuming all went well. Then I was free, if only until we reached the PRT building. Or Fugly Bob's, since we needed breakfast. Delicious, greasy breakfast, determined to finish Gravity's botched job.

Concussions and hours of boredom make me think dark thoughts.

Then to the PRT. A, glassy, open-looking building downtown, which was made slightly depressing by the bars clearly visible behind all the windows. A big shield with a PRT logo denoted that _this_ glassy building in particular was the home of the PRT here, and implied that it was housing a team of super-teens. The lobby was huge, with big pictures of the Wards, nice architecture, and a gift shop. Although the sheer number of flamethrower-esque foam-shooters on the guards sure brought down the average. We walked up to the desk, and my mom said a code phrase – "I'm here to pick up my daughter's lost Velocity Hoodie, the red one" – that she'd been given with the paperwork, and we sat down to wait for our meeting.

After a few minutes, we were directed into a room off the lobby, and I was given a basic mask to wear. We were then taken into a cozy but professional interview room, where a man identified by his door as Deputy Director Renick looked through our paperwork, found it satisfactory, and then proceeded to ask me, "So why do you want to be a hero?"

I looked at him, thinking it out as I pulled out my pad and paper. I first wrote, 'Sorry, powers made me mute. 5 min,' then began to think of how to put it into words, thankful that my mom didn't try to answer for me. After a few minutes of silence, I had it as good as I could get it on the page.

'I was in a bad place, and still am, but what pulled me out of the idea of ending it was the thought that it wouldn't fix anything, only hurt. I know that every life means something to someone, and taking something from someone is wrong, not just as a rules thing, but as a moral problem. I want to be a Hero because I've been to dark places already, and want to protect people from that loss, that darkness, that pain. I want to stop the bad.'

They read it, and then, Renick just stared at me. He looked like he was having problems reconciling the writing with the 8-year old boy in front of him. He looked shaken for a moment more, then regained his composure. My mother looked sad, but smiled. I knew she had thought of her bad days. Then Renick spoke. "To be honest, I would have expected that from someone like Armsmaster, or maybe Chevalier. You certainly have their spirit, kid."

I smiled and wrote, 'I also had a family around, couldn't exactly join some villains, right?' He chuckled, and with the ice broken, asked my mom about scheduling power testing. After a few minutes of small items like that, he turned back to me and asked, "Do you have a cape name yet?" I shook my head, and wrote. 'Element might work, but I bet someone has that,' and he nodded back. "Tinker at UCLA, does chemical reactions that defy analysis, like most Tinkertech. Actually contributed to Containment Foam, if I remember." I shrugged, figuring I'd find something soon. How hard could it be to find a name about classical elements and dream worlds?

Finally, he asked the magic question. "So, would you like to meet the Wards? We can schedule a meeting later today, say…4:00?" My mom said yes, and both ignored my bobble head impression, smiling softly to themselves. They exchanged pleasantries, then we broke for lunch.

Food, glorious food! Et cetera, et cetera. Sonny's Chicken by the Boardwalk, in this case, with ice cream after. I had a suspicion that all this fast food was a bribe or reward or something. Eh, I'll take it. After that, I requested we go home, and then I'd try to explain my powers as best I could.

After we got home, we sat down in the living room, got comfy, and I readied my pad, ignoring the pain as my meds began to wear off. I'd fix it later. After a minute, my mom prompted me by opening with, "So, I thought it might be strength, but the name didn't fit. I assume you know already, so…" I raised my hand, and she smiled again.

'I can control the classical elements with martial arts, I think.' 'I also have these dream worlds, but'…'While I know there's more to that power, I think I'll leave that for power testing.' 'They remind me of the fall, a bit.'

She took that in, then nodded softly. "I'm sad to hear that, I was going to ask if you could show me. I'm proud of you, baby. You were brave today, and I really realized that even though you're young, you've grown up a lot. I'm…I'm so sorry!" She broke down into tears, sweeping me into a soft, slightly painful hug. I reached around as far as I could with my good arm, patting her on her side as I wished that I could just say, "It's okay."

Instead, I just leaned into her hug, holding her as she sobbed. She apologized about missing the signs, for being too depressed to realize I was hurting, for not listening to the explanations of a child, even hers. She poured her heart out, and said she thought I was stronger than her, to stop the first time, to choose to bear it. I held her as she cried, and listened.

I knew later she might feel silly, crying to a third grader, an 8-year-old, even if she knew I was no average boy. I knew she would still treat me like a know-nothing child on occasion, but all mothers do. I knew I was not supposed to understand, and that I did, and that even if I was not mature, I was going to help my mother. I would not crawl away from the darkness only to leave her behind.

After all, what kind of hero would save only those already in the light?

-Shangri-La-

Armsmaster greeted me as I stepped into the hallway, mask on my face. I grinned as he shook my hand, then held up a quickly scrawled note that said, 'Hi, I'm Michael, nice to meet you!' He nodded, and greeted me back, "Armsmaster, or Colin if you prefer. I'm the leader of the Protectorate here in the Bay. I'm excited to find out what you bring to the team, Michael, especially considering your age."

I frowned. He noticed, and clarified, "What I mean is, younger parahumans tend to be much stronger and broader in scope, as a rule. Our own Vista triggered at 10, and she is one of the stronger shakers on record; you are 8, making you one of the youngest confirmed triggers the PRT has seen, and you aren't even a second or third generation cape."

I guess that made sense. Could've worded it better, but can't fault him for that. Footmouth syndrome is a terrible affliction. I wrote, 'I hope to find out, but my main power needs martial arts to be used, so we might need to test over time.' 'I think I have a Cape name in mind.' He looked interested, and asked me what it was.

I had given it some thought after my mother had stopped crying. I controlled the elements, and knew secret places, and I wanted to find a name that captured the concept of elements and creation. A quick search showed that many cultures developed a concept of four to eight elements, but I had to avoid German, Chinese, Japanese and Tibetan names for gang reasons, and Greek was too clunky to use. I eventually settled on the alchemic traditions; English enough to be useable, but with extra meaning. Alchemy had the concept of a base material, or prima materia, from which all other materials could be crafted, and which had features of all the elements.

'Materia. Base of all elements, seemed appropriate.'

He nodded, then without another word, led me to the elevator. It was such a smooth ride, if not for the resonance of the air outside, I might not have noticed it moving down. Shortly, we arrived, stepped out, and headed down the hallway until we reached a door. He hit a buzzer next to it while I affixed a note to my chest.

After a few seconds, the door opened. Inside, there were more capes than a Power Rangers team, and they were way cooler, too. It wasn't just the Wards; Glory Girl and Panacea were there too. Only Kid Win and Shadow Stalker were missing. I wondered why, but quickly figured I'd find out soon, and waved hello. Panacea stepped forward, peering at the note.

"Hello…Materia. I'm Amy Dallon, aka Panacea. Renick told Ca - Brandish there was a new Ward coming in, and mentioned he might need a bit of healing, so before I shake your hand, do I have permission to heal you?" I nodded, offering my hand to her. She took it, then said, "Humeral fracture, easy enough; damaged shoulder cartilage, hairline fracture in the scapula, done; and minor concussion, although I can't do anything for that. Should clear up in a few days, though. Want a quick tune-up? Might help with testing, but you'll need to eat more." I nodded again, and a few moments later, I felt like I just chugged a ton of sodas.

I quickly turned the handshake into a chivalrous kiss on the hand, a sweeping motion with my casted, but cured, arm. I then pulled out the pad and wrote, 'Thank you, really. And call me Michael.' and handed that to her, her look of mild shock turning to confusion as she saw me use the pad. She took the note, then said, "You're mute? I didn't see any health problems that could cause that, mental or otherwise."

'Powers took it,' I wrote. She gave a sympathetic look, and looked to say more, but was interrupted by a bemused voice saying, "Hey Ames, you gonna share the kid with the rest of us?"

We both blushed as we realized a full room of people had sat patiently while we had a conversation at the door, in full view of everyone, smiles growing slowly from second to second as they accumulated moments to tease us for. We were doomed. And it was only getting worse. Finally we were saved by a knight in shining – no, it was just Gallant.

"So, are you going to introduce us?" he said in a kind tone. Clockblocker chimed in, "Or do we have to wait for the wedding invites?" Gallant shot him a look, and Vista bent space and elbowed him, and the tension was broken. Amy gestured to me and said, "This is Materia. Apparently his power made him mute, so please treat him well, and don't overwhelm him." She glanced at Glory Girl, "That includes you, Vicky!"

I waved, and the introductions began. First up, Glory Girl, who rushed over and swept me up in a hug. A very tight hug, hello super strength, pleased to meet you too. She cried out, "He's cute, can I keep him?" I was now trying to escape, but, well, super strength. I was lucky I had been healed before the hug. "Vicky! No! I literally just said not to overwhelm him!" "But Aaameess!" and she let go. I pantomimed taking a huge breath, then laughed it off as best I could. God, I missed vocal chords. My laugh was all whispery now.

After Hurricane Victoria, the other Wards introduced themselves. It was pretty funny getting frozen by Clockblocker-handshake, and Triumph seemed like a good guy. Vista looked…bittersweet about it all, and Aegis and Gallant were both polite, although Gallant gave me an odd look every now and then. After a bit, Amy and Vicky excused themselves, citing hospital visits, and then, the big question that would shake our team paradigm forever came up: Would we…Unmask?

Duh.

I went first, pulling out the other note with one hand and my mask with the other, I reintroduced myself as Michael. Vista went next; apparently, she was Missy, a girl in Lord Elementary's eighth grade class; we had seen each other here and there between classes and at assemblies. Carlos, Dennis, Dean and Rory each introduced themselves; they all went to Arcadia, and I asked if any of them knew David, my brother. Carlos had talked with him a bit, and Dennis shared a class. "I might need to get to know him better, now." he said, "Not every day you meet the older brother of a teammate." I would have to warn him about the prankster.

Stalker and Kid Win had patrol, so they assigned Missy to guide me to the built-in hospital to get my now-defunct and clunky cast removed. Along the way, she sighed, and started talking. "So, welcome to the team. Gotta say, I won't miss being the youngest one here - no offense!" She looked worried she might have struck a chord.

I chuckled, the sound coming out more like a short series of huffs as I wrote. 'Youngest does suck, but I already do this shtick.' 'Very smart for my age, read at your grade level, reason at least as well as an 11-12 year old, maybe more.' 'Not taken seriously. Ignored. Led to situation that caused trigger.' 'Getting past it.'

She read each as I tore them off, and laughed a bit, until the third one. She looked at me after the fourth. "Wow, you triggered off it, and you're okay with it? That's… I don't even think about my trigger if I can. You sure you aren't a third-gen cape?" I nodded. "Well, I'm always here if you need a sympathetic ear, I know the kind of bullshit they do with the youngest one. Anyway, here we are."

We quickly got the attention of a nurse, who directed us to a side room. We waited a bit, then a doctor came in, sawed through the cast, and gave me a note to give to my primary care physician, forward dated, stating that it was removed by so-and-so for such-and-such, so my ID wouldn't be compromised. Then, we headed back up, me writing out notes in advance for the inevitable power discussion when the others returned. In the meantime, pizza was served in the Wards room, and there was much rejoicing.

A few minutes later, Dennis on the console said, "Incoming friendlies, ETA 5 minutes." Then he mumbled, "Although, it might be 'Friendly and Unfriendly'," to a nod from Missy. I wondered what that was about.

It didn't take long to find out.


	5. Creation 1-5

Creation 1.5

My first impression of Kid Win was _tired._ My first for Shadow Stalker, was _pissed off._

I didn't have to guess who was giving off the wrong one.

The door buzzed, and we all donned our masks, helmets, etc., just as I'd been told to. Never know when it would be someone unexpected. A few moments later, Kid trudged into the room, took in the situation, and after a moment, headed in my direction. He opened his mouth to introduce himself – and was cut off by a cry from the door.

"Fucking bullshit! How the hell did he counter my powers? I had him!" She stopped as she looked around and spotted me on the couch. "Who the hell is the munchkin? We a daycare now?"

Triumph stood up, stared her down, and said, "Stalker, come with me. I think we need to… debrief." He then led her to another room, and I proceeded to hear the muffled sounds of a heated argument. Clock looked my way and said, "Meet Shadow Stalker. I think she likes you!"

If she liked anyone, I'd eat my metaphorical hat. She reminded me of my uncle, the one that got _kicked out of E88_ and proceeded to join the Merchants, last I heard. Hated everyone equally, and would sooner hit you than cuss about you. If there was one type of person I hated, it was those who thought they were better than you for no reason. That might be a problem, considering the fact we were on a team.

Putting that aside for now, I turned to Kid Win, and shook his hand while pointing to the 'Hi! I'm Materia!' note on my chest. He looked a little confused until Gallant clarified, "His voice got lost when he triggered, but he's a smart kid from what we've seen. We waited for you and Stalker before we asked about powers."

"Thanks for that. I need something interesting after that patrol. Some new cape had a power that did weird stuff with Stalker's powers, and they got away. No injuries, but she's been a pain for the last half hour." He sighed again, then smiled hopefully. "Maybe you're a Tinker? I'd love to have someone to talk shop with." I shook my head, then wrote, 'No, but I could still try helping you out.' 'My uncle's a mechanic, I can relate.' The one we talked about, anyway.

"That sounds cool, can't wait. Unmasking okay?" I nodded, and pulled off mine. He took a moment undoing his visor while I fumbled for the name card in my stack of notes, and passed him that as he said, "Hi, I'm Chris. Welcome to the team." Just after that, Triumph and Stalker started to come back in, and I quickly re-donned my mask. I'd only show her if she showed me first.

Triumph paused for a moment, then said, "I really want to get to the powers talk, but I think it needs to be mentioned first. Stalker and Kid ran into a new cape today, who seemed to be doing illegal protection work. Stalker got close enough for a visual ID, but they escaped with his powers. She said it's a tall male profile, with black fog rolling off of it, and a skull mask. He seems to spread the black fog around, and it interferes with Stalker's shadow form, so please try to be careful when engaging him, as he may be a trump or stranger. Also, Materia, I'd like to apologize on her behalf. She is somewhat abrasive on occasion, but that was out of line, and I'll be requesting she be put on the monitor for a few days to cool her down."

The others winced sympathetically at that last bit. I nodded my thanks, wondering what the monitor was, and wrote, 'Will she join us for the powers thing?' He replied, "No, she's going to sit it out, apparently. I figured that might be best anyway, and it lets us talk face-to-face." I nodded again. We sat down in the lounge area, and I passed him the first few notes to read aloud to the group. I figured he should, as leader, and considering his voice powers. He took them, and began to read aloud.

"Materia says his powers appear to be awareness and control of the four classical elements; Water, Earth, Fire, and Air. He has not fully tested these powers, mainly due to the limitation that he must do movements associated to martial arts to control them, and has had only four classes of basic Tae-Kwon-Do." He paused, and Dean said, "That sounds pretty useful. Depending on your control, that could be either a blaster, or maybe a blaster/shaker hybrid, both of which would have good synergy with Vista and Kid." He was halted as Rory raised a hand and said, "There's more."

"He also has what he has termed 'Dream Worlds', and a sensation to either push or be pulled when he turns his mind to them. So far, he's only tested being pulled, and experienced being pulled into dreamlike places, ranging from mundane to completely impossible terrain, and being unconscious while he is in them. He emphasizes that these worlds seem to be impossibly beautiful, and he has almost lost himself wandering them on a few occasions. He thinks pushing on one will probably either take people there, or bring things from the worlds here in some way, or maybe combine them, but there's no way to know until he tries."

He looked up, confused. "I…honestly have no idea what to make of that. It could be a lot of things, and will need to be carefully tested for sure. It's just speculation, but taking people off the battlefield would be amazing. If it really can bring things from there to here, though, you might be as powerful as _Vista_ , maybe _more._ "

Everyone around the room just stared for a moment. Then Dennis and Chris simultaneously said in awed voices, "Your powers are _bullshit!_ " The silence rang a moment longer, then I started laughing as hard as I could (which wasn't hard), and everyone joined in for a minute. After it died down, they began to chat about synergies within the group, and I had Missy text my mom to say I needed to be picked up in a half-hour.

"But what about ice, or steam? If he can control that, it might make an effective counter to lasers by diffraction!" "Does asphalt count as earth? How about sand, or metals?" "Can you control plasma?" "Can you describe one of your worlds?"

Ten minutes of stuff like that later, I passed Rory a note asking if there was anything else I needed to do before I left today. He nodded, and led me back to Renick's office after we put back on our masks. He knocked, and a voice said, "Enter." Renick was sitting at his desk, and after a moment finishing a line on the form in front of him, he motioned to Triumph, saying, "Thanks for bringing him, you can head back." Triumph looked to me with a smile and said, "Nice to meet you, and I look forward to power testing. Have a good day."

The door closed, and Renick turned to me and motioned towards a chair. "I see you've picked a name, Materia. I hope the PR department likes it as much as you do. Speaking of power testing, now that you've been healed up, we should probably get it in sooner, rather than later. Is the 26th okay? That way you can recover from the concussion, eat Thanksgiving dinner, then come make a day of it on Friday."

'It sounds good, but I need to check with my mom first,' I wrote. He nodded. "That was the other bit of business I needed to take care of for you. You're a Ward now, and all Wards receive a custom PRT-issue cell phone. On top of the features of your average smartphone, it comes with PRT call encryption, a direct line to our console system, and a matched earbud to wear while in costume, which slides into the side, like so." He demonstrated basic use as he talked. I was overjoyed. My mom couldn't afford cells for us, so David had only gotten a cheap flip model this year.

He continued, "Alongside that, Dragon whipped up a quick and simple text-to-speech program, and altered it to fit your phone's software. It works with your calls too, so you can have conversations as long as you can type. Best of all, she thinks she might be able to approximate your voice, assuming she can get or find some samples. If you bring some audio recordings, we might be able to give you a voice again." He smiled warmly as I looked at him with gratitude. I wrote out, 'Thank you, and thank Dragon for me." Then I took the phone- _my_ phone- and texted my mom about power testing. A minute later, I showed Renick the text confirming the new appointment, and after a handshake, I was headed back to the lobby.

-Shangri-La-

As we rode home, I thought about the Wards. I was years younger than even their next youngest member, and if what Missy had said about her time with them was anything to go by, my life from here on was not going to be easy. I was used to that. Being able to outthink a fifth grader in some subjects by second grade meant that a decent portion of my life so far had been about adults keeping me from my full potential, while people my age teased me about it. I was getting used to the idea that adults didn't just not want me to succeed, they just didn't think I could.

That was fine.

What really got me was how someone like Stalker could be a hero. She was a different breed of bully from those at my school, but nonetheless a bully. I couldn't imagine someone with that temper managing to do more good than harm, but maybe I just hadn't seen enough in life yet.

The other Wards had been friendly, and I had felt less like an outsider the more we talked. I thought Dennis was funny, and Chris was kind of like me; eager to share ideas, seemed to like finding out more about interesting things. I got the feeling Dean was a bit confused by me, and hadn't talked much to Carlos, but then again, he didn't talk much either. Rory was a nice person, and probably a good leader, but he felt…impersonal? Like he had so little in common with most of the group that he often forgot to be a friend first, as harsh as that was. He was also graduating soon, so he wouldn't be on our team much longer.

Our team.

A smile came to my face again as it really sank in. _I was going to be a superhero._ The bullies might talk, Stalker might snap, but I was a hero now. Soon, I'd be out there with the others, fighting for good, because good can't fight for itself. Or some cheesy thing like that. But for the next two days, I would be a normal kid, and have Thanksgiving with my family. Because I had a few more things to be thankful for.


	6. Creation 1-6

Creation 1.6

My house is nestled in one of the few good parts of town that aren't downtown. A small but lucrative shopping center kept it alive when the docks fell, according to my neighbor. The houses were solid, the gangs were held back by the proximity to a hospital and New Wave's infrequent but thorough patrols. The backyard was fairly large, and had a magical forest full of elves in it.

Okay, it was a bamboo stand that took up part of the yard. But when you've been in the hospital for three days, and your little brother is worried sick, your backyard becomes the greatest place on earth.

We roamed through the underbrush, spears in our hands. The elven bandits had been evading us for many moons, and we had been lucky to survive the last ambush they had staged. We were now trying to stage an ambush for them in kind, but were being hampered by two factors; Jordan sucks at whispering, and can barely read, so I was forced to use the text-to-speech app. Which meant every plan was broadcast to the whole forest. Who knew if the magical shadows around us were benign or servants of the elves? What of the squirrels?

Eventually, we managed to find a spot to camp for a while. I felt that we might have to abandon the chase soon. The elves knew the forest so well, we hadn't seen them yet, even when they attacked. Our rations were low, and the Queen would soon grow tired of our quest. Jordan said, in a falsely low voice, "I grow weary of the chase, brother." Then, voice returning to normal, "Can we go play Candy Land?"

I detested Candy Land. Not because the game was bad, but because Jordan was a terrible loser. He threw fits every time he began to lose. So of course I typed, 'Sure.' I wanted to spend the entire afternoon with him anyway, Candy Land would happen at some point.

-Shangri-La-

After a sound defeat at the hands of my brother, it was time for dinner. I was starving, thanks to Amy's 'tune-up', so my family watched bemusedly as I somehow fit thirds of chicken and rice into my tummy. I almost went for fourths, but decided I might need it overnight. I didn't yet know if my lack of sleep was thanks to meds, my powers, or just my usual sleep difficulties, but I hoped to find out tonight.

After dinner, we settled down and watched Toy Story 2 while David went to do homework and Mom cleaned up. Jordan fell asleep near the end, so I dragged him on his blanket to his room, then helped him into bed. I still didn't feel tired, so I stayed up with Mom watching TV. Then she started nodding off, so I got her up and led her to bed. A few minutes later, I heard the familiar sounds overhead of David getting into bed, and checked a clock.

Almost 1. I either don't need sleep, or Amy's thing reduced my need for it.

I have no idea what I'll do for another 6 hours.

I would read, but I don't have any library books around, and I've read most of the stuff around the house. I can't watch TV, too loud. No movies, same problem. Can't play board games alone. My pet doesn't need a walk; fish and cats tend to not do that.

I eventually decided to go back to the backyard. The play earlier had given me some ideas, and besides, I needed to test my powers more.

I sat in the middle of the bamboo stand, legs crossed, arms out, stereotypical meditation pose. I was just listening to the resonance that surrounded me, flowed through me. The earth thumping its slow bass beat, the air, its flowing, slightly discordant melody, the dew in the air in crooning in harmony. I felt something more now, after an hour of listening; there was a harmony like the dew, but while it was everywhere around and under me, it sounded muffled. Like it was behind a wall.

I centered some of the muffled music in my head, then opened my eyes. I was staring at a patch of bamboo.

Oh. I guess that should've been obvious. Plants have water in them, and I can sense and control water.

It hit me a second later. If I can control water… Can I sort of puppet plants?

I reached out, and made some swirling motions, much like the ones I had made in the hospital.

The bamboo shuddered.

I tried again.

I felt the water shift, and the bamboo shuddered less than before.

I made a sharper gesture, somewhat frustrated at the shivering plant.

A section burst as the water pooled inside rushed at me.

The bamboo toppled. I reached over to it, slowly realizing what I'd done. I must have been trying it wrong, because the inside of the section looked like it had exploded already. I must have broken the water channels in the plant. I needed a different set of gestures to move plants, that much was sure.

I wondered if I could move blood, then immediately decided to never try. Even if I could, I'd almost certainly kill whatever I used my power on that way. I had heard too much in the hospital about how lucky I was that my brain hadn't been too injured, and moving blood seemed like a great way to limit the blood reaching the brain, or to form a clotted artery, or something.

I focused on trying to get bamboo to bend. It was tough work, and many a shoot was killed as I accidentally ripped the water from them. I had to keep that in mind as well; if it was half as easy to get water from weeds, I could use that in combat. I needed some source for my elements, other than maybe fire, after all. After another hour and a half of stuff dying intermittently, I had a better set of motions for moving plants. The idea was to draw along the channels of the plant, while nudging them gently towards the desired angle. To fast or too much pressure, and you hurt or kill the plant. More flexible bamboo was much faster to bend, and harder to damage. I would have to ask them for plants to try out on in power testing, see how well it translated from one plant to another.

I went to my other objective for the night; figuring out what the 'push' on my worlds was. I chose the mesa world, figuring it was a safe place to start. I pushed, and watched the world change around me.

As I activated the power, a new sense came to my awareness; a huge circle around me, growing larger inch by inch, second by second; and a smaller circle, representing the part that was becoming mine. I barely tore myself away from the other part in time to stop this from taking my house out.

The other part was the jewels swinging into view.

They were actual _worlds_.

Each sphere in front of me was a beautiful combination of colors, arranged in a mosaic along its surface. They each shined like the brightest jewel you can imagine, but stayed near the edge of my vision, save one. It was the mesa world, that I knew, but though I wished to look closer, I could not without letting myself be pulled in, and then I wouldn't be all _here_. I could feel it, though, feel where things were, in general. It had a shining point on its surface, and with a thought, the dot moved, and the area of my power shifted. The etched monoliths sank, the ground shifted to purple-blue grass, and a wall of one of those palatial estates I had seen from atop the mesa rose near the fence.

Wait, why was I still doing this? Someone could see!

I quickly tried pulling back on the world, sighing as they slid back out of view, their shining glory ceasing to cloud my thoughts. The walls and grass receded, and a minute later, there were no signs my power had ever been here., other than my diminutive form, on my knees in the bamboo stand.

I once again felt wronged by my powers. They were so amazing, but it was a Midas touch scenario; beauty can cloud judgement, and power corrupts. My powers were so captivating to me that I could lose myself to them, and my lesser powers were deceptively dangerous in their own right, even though they hadn't tried to _take_ me. If I hadn't thought of the blood thing, would I have accidentally killed someone? What would stop me from sucking the air out of someone's lungs, or burning them with a misplaced burst of flame?

My powers were the greatest thing to happen to me, but at times, I couldn't help but feel like I just wanted to be a kid.

-Shangri-La-

I spent the rest of that morning searching for video or recordings of my voice, only to come up empty. Our family wasn't big on social media, and what little they did post was pictures. Maybe the school had some security cam footage they were willing to let Dragon use. Or the church might still have a recording of last year's Christmas play or something, I don't know.

I finally sighed, walked upstairs, and began turning off the alarms, since everyone was off for the rest of the week. Let them sleep another hour or two. I helped myself to some leftovers and turned on some cartoons, but my heart just wasn't in it. My testing had been worthwhile, but it left me depressed again; ever since the revelation atop that mesa, all my powers seemed to do was remind me of where I was before the window.

I had wanted to escape my reality, to change it to one where people listened. I got the ability to escape, to change, to mold, and lost the ability to be heard in the most literal sense. I no longer wanted to escape, my ability to change was a monkey paw, and my ability to shape the world I had could erase life with a misplaced gesture. I was not old; this power would at the very least define my life; but I couldn't help but wonder if I might not be able to bear their burden.

The TV flashed with light, zany antics and colorful characters dancing across it, as I sat there in the dark.


	7. Creation 1-7

Creation 1.7

The morning brought my family from their rooms, hungry and with eyes full of sand. I shook myself away from my thoughts, pasted a smile on my face, and grabbed my phone off the charger. I walked into the kitchen, and typed 'Good Morning!'

They chorused "Good morning" back, sounding more like a trio of zombies. I continued typing, 'I found out I don't sleep anymore.' "That's nice, honey," my mom said distractedly, before the words really hit her. "Oh. What did you do all night then?"

'I tested my powers.'

"Oh."

A pause.

"Okay."

I might need to wait for them to all wake up before I tried to explain any more. I settled down at the table, and ate some cereal, and so the rest of breakfast passed in silence, save the sounds of spoons in bowls. Afterwards, Mom and David headed for warm clothes and showers, and Jordan and I went to watch TV in our pajamas.

An hour or so later, we were called back to the table. My mother looked to me, saying, "Okay, sweetie, unless I'm mistaken, none of us know that much about your powers. Care to fill us in?" I nodded, and spent the next few minutes summarizing the conversation with the Wards the day before.

'… and the dream worlds can also be pushed. That was the main thing I tested last night.' I pressed on, my thumbs growing tired of the typing. 'Pushing on a world lets me bring it here, filling a slowly growing circle around me. I can demonstrate outside.' Mom shook her head. "No, I think it would be safer if you didn't use your powers at home. People might notice." Everyone nodded, though Jordan looked unhappy at that. He probably wanted to see my powers, instead of talking.

"Either we drive out of city limits so you can show us, if we really need to see, or we wait until Friday, for the official testing," she continued. 'Not that urgent, I guess,' I responded. Even if I did show them, it wouldn't really _show_ them what got to me; it only showed a tiny portion, like seeing the night sky in a city versus out in the wild. The sheer _scale_ of what was missing would make describing it impossible.

My mom nodded, then clapped her hands. "Alright then. Who wants to go with me to the store? We need a few things for Thanksgiving!" I needed more books, and so typed, 'Can you drop me at the library?' A nod, and Jordan and I ran off to get ready for the day.

-Shangri-La-

I had been introduced to public libraries last year, and had proceeded to take their juvenile sections by storm. I didn't go enough that every member of the staff knew me by sight, but I certainly made an impression when I came. After all, what little kid spends hours stalking the shelves, then brought almost as much reading material as he could forth, then laughed when they mentioned the 1 month due date? That usually got a smile, followed by a shocked look if they happened to be there a week or two later, watching me check out more.

I loved reading a lot. Books could take me away from my problems, but they did so in a good way. I was a third grader who could enjoy Tolkien, but only because I had read The Boxcar Children first, then Animorphs, then Harry Potter, and so on. I knew stuff about Earth Aleph, because publishers struck deals through the data link, and the idea of a real other world had been so exciting. I had read of fantastical worlds, ones that seemed even more strange than our own history had so recently become, and lost myself in them long before I had the power to do exactly that for real.

Books were my refuge, my fortress in a siege. They were part of my life in a way my few friends had never been. I wasn't deluded or anything, I knew fiction was the definition of 'not-real', that it couldn't really help me in life; but I treasured the words all the same on my worst days, and enjoyed adventuring as the hero on my good days; easy to read, impossible to master.

I stalked the rows, continuing the cycle. As I moved from aisle to aisle, I spotted a librarian I had had a conversation or two with, and waved with the arm that didn't have Artemis Fowl 1-4 stacked on it. I turned to the aisle, passing a blonde girl twice my age as I went, who gave me a weird smile and pulled out her phone as I dove back into looking for interesting titles. I eventually settled on the first two books of _The Edge Chronicles,_ and moved to the next row, looking in my mind like nothing so much as a velociraptor creeping after its prey.

An hour and twelve books later, I was ready to be picked up from the library. If nothing else, the books I had would fill my nights for a week or so. I had also grabbed a few movies, to fill time while we cooked tomorrow. I waited outside for a few minutes, studiously ignoring strangers and homeless as I waited. The sky was growing overcast; a storm was coming soon. I was relieved when my mom's car pulled in, and I got up off the bench, only to almost headbutt a man heading into the library, who shot me a look, then sped up his rush inside.

I moved quickly to get in the car; the wind was singing that the storm was not far away now. Putting my bags in the back, I climbed in, then fished out my phone so I could talk if I needed to. After the customary "Find anything good?" and the reply, we were off to the house again.

Later that night, we watched the new Superman movie, _Superman: Into the Light,_ which I had rented from the library. I wasn't a comics guy (and comics were basically dead), but I had enjoyed old VHS tapes of Superman cartoons and stuff, so I knew the basics. I think the character was helped by the fact that there were other capes to share his burdens now, and wondered how Aleph might handle a Superman movie, since they had so few capes. Anyway, it was good, and we had a laugh at some of the hero parodies, so overall, a good pick. After that, I helped clean up dinner, and they all headed up to bed while I got comfy with a good book.

-Shangri-La-

The Edge Chronicles was very interesting; I'd have to go get the rest of the series next week. I stretched, needing to walk around after nearly eight hours of reading. I set the finished book down, walked into the kitchen, and made myself some food, checking the time as I did. 6:29, Thanksgiving Day. I reached into the fridge, poked the turkey to make sure it was thawed by now, and looked over the other stuff to double check they had bought good produce instead of just grabbing any old veggie or fruit. I may have also grabbed a few crispy onions; they were too _important_ to not 'ensure quality standards.' Mmhmm. That was it.

After that, I went back to the armchair, intent on seeing if Artemis Fowl was as good as _Beyond the Deepwoods_ , but barely finished the first chapter before the family trudged downstairs to complete the morning ritual. I waved good morning, and went back to my book. My mom came into the living room and turned on the news; there went my quiet reading for the morning. Now I'd have to _interact_ with my family. Oh the horror. With a small smile to myself, I set my bookmark in the pages, and laid it back atop the Tower of Doom – I mean Literature.

The day after that went by in a rush; mostly, Jordan and I helped a little, inevitably messed up with our underage coordination skills, and proceeded to play for a while until Mom and David forgot the last time. Both floors of the house were soon permeated in the wonderful smells of turkey and sweet potato and onion and spice, but that soon backfired as well, since it brought two boys begging at their heels for scraps and samples. We were summarily booted into the backyard, where we then proceeded with the hunt for the elven bandits that hid in our forest.

I quickly found out that mud was incredibly easy to control with my powers, and the storm yesterday had left plenty of it around. I decided to have actual ambush attacks by our 'pursuers', but Jordan mistook the attack to be a declaration of war, and a mud fight was had. I had the advantage; not only could I throw more than he, I did it with _ninja moves,_ so I was automatically better. After he was thoroughly trounced, I got what mud I could off of us, and we trudged inside to clean up and change.

After a loud but brief scolding, and some threats made against our upcoming meal, we headed to the bathrooms with our metaphorical tails between our legs. As I entered the master bathroom, I took in the travesties of war.

My brown hair was clumpy and disheveled, mud caking it here and there. My pale face was half browned, my glasses thankfully easy to get the mud off, but that just left my bright gray eyes to shine out of the dirt. My pudgy figure was spattered with mud, making my Battery t-shirt look like it was camo. Overall, I looked like I had been wrestling a pig, and that was _after_ I had removed most of it. I undressed, deciding that I may as well make laundry easier on Mom, and took my pants and shirt into the shower with me.

After the thirty minute scrubfest, I was squeaky clean and in fresh clothes, and oh so very hungry. I tossed the towel and my wet clothes over the side of the tub, and stampeded downstairs to see about some noms. Nothing was available, so I made a fat PBJ with banana, and had that to curb my hunger for now. Jordan and I were quick to decide it was time for some SORRY, and he invited David to play, too. A rousing game was had, but in the end, I came up dead last, with the other two neck and neck for the lead. I swear, even if you can't really strategize in this game, they still team up on me.

David eventually won, with me still 12 spaces back and Jordan just 1 away from the win. Good timing, too, as it was time to get the food laid out at the table. It was a team effort; namely, they carried the food to the table while we untrusted little folk did a cheerleader routine on the side, both of them glaring daggers at us as they passed. Finally, the table was set, the food was ready, and everyone was seated. We folded our hands, said a prayer of thanks, and dug in.

It was delicious.

Seasoned juicy turkey with cranberries and gravy, mashed potatoes and green bean casserole, sweet potato pie, Chex mix, corn on the cob, and this multigrain bread they got at some local bakery I now wanted to visit; a veritable smorgasbord of food. Nobody had room for more than a few 'MM-mm's' and nods of satisfaction, because nobody could stop trying that next forkful. It was nice, though. I felt more comfortable without conversation, especially since I couldn't contribute. We just enjoyed our meal, and enjoyed having each other.

After that, we all got together and played some Monopoly. Fair warning: my family was _bad_ at Monopoly, and I was not. After a sweet victory courtesy of the influx of renters at Pennsylvania Avenue and the hotel on St. Charles, We settled in to watch another classic: _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_ , aka the pre-Scion one, if anyone even counted the Aleph disaster as a contender. As always, it was lighthearted, zany, and catchy. I wanted to live in these moments forever. Too bad.

My brain can't leave well enough alone. I just had to think about tomorrow, about next week, didn't I? I couldn't have let me have one day to enjoy with my family, one day to pretend this would ever be normal again? Why did I have to think about how much powers might change my life, how much they already had? Why couldn't I just be happy?

I tried to get back into the movie, to enjoy the time with my family, but one stray thought had popped my happy bubble. Instead, while the main characters floated up to certain doom, I contemplated the things I had given thanks for today; My mom, my brothers, my home, and my life; and hoped I could hold myself together long enough to be thankful for them again next year.

-Shangri-La-

The next day, I was in a grumpy mood. All night, I had tried to focus on reading, but kept being distracted by little thoughts I couldn't quite translate into words. Doubts, worries, dark thoughts, and feelings of sadness and loss had haunted my mind, and I had teared up more than once without realizing why. I wished I could have gone to sleep, let those feelings rest until today; it took losing the ability to sleep to realize how much it helps you _cope_ sometimes.

They got up early; Jordan had had a really cool flying dream (Another thing I missed was dreaming; my mood got a little darker), and shared it with everyone. My mother laughed at the idea of _Jordan_ flying loops around Alexandria, and I smiled a bit at the bit where Photon Mom crashed into him; it was pretty funny. Breakfast was eaten, I had a few extra strips of turkey since I'd need my energy today, and we broke to get ready to go by 8.

I went to my room; I actually hadn't spent much time in here lately, except to feed my fish. It probably had something to do with the window. I didn't want to go too near it, not after last Saturday, not after the fall. My bed was comfy, but it was right under the window, so I tended to just read curled up in the recliner in the living room. I instead headed to my closet, picking out an Eidolon t-shirt in white, my scout pants with the removable legs, and a skintight long-sleeved black undershirt for layers, followed by a plain zip hoodie in grey. I closed the closet doors, looking away from the reflection as the mirrors on them came into view, and got dressed quickly, grabbing some gum and my phone on the way out.

I psyched myself up as I waited for the others. I was going to test my powers, for real, and I was going to be _awesome_. My powers did indeed let me bring my worlds to the real world, and I had a lot of control over it, plus, maybe, they might have ideas I never would have thought of. I couldn't think of too many things, but that was because I was too _excited_ and because of course you couldn't think of things you would never have thought of because then everyone could know everything. A part of my mind rebelled at the positive thinking, but I refused to listen. Today would be a good day.


	8. Creation 1-8

Creation 1.8

We arrived at the Rig parking lot down by the Docks, and fell in with a tour group as per instructions. We were to split off to 'use the restrooms' in pairs, each guiding a little kid. I had to admit, the guys coming up with these plans were pretty good at making things seem at least somewhat covert. I guess that was their job. Anyway, the cool tour VTOL thing came down a few minutes later, and we flew up, getting a cool view of the Bay skyline on one side, while I noticed the craft carefully kept the Boat Graveyard out behind us. After landing, my mom and I headed straight for the bathrooms, and David and Jordan joined us shortly thereafter.

We went back to the desk with a cheap mask on my face, and after asking after our appointment, we were given careful directions, along with a warning not to wander. Apparently, oil rigs have very generic, easy to get lost in hallways, and foam will trigger for any major unauthorized entry. After a few minutes walking, we arrived at the meeting point, which turned out to be a conference room. A large portion of the cities' capes sat inside: Most of the Wards, save Aegis, Clockblocker, and Shadow Stalker, and the entire Protectorate sans Battery and Assault.

"Good, you've arrived. Please have a seat, we need to go over our testing procedure." Armsmaster said as we entered. I think the only reason my family took a seat at all was because they were asked. My brothers had stars in their eyes, especially Jordan. After we sat, Armsmaster began to go over procedures with my mother, and I looked around, gauging the room.

Mostly, they were bored right now. I couldn't blame them, it was probably something they'd heard before. Gallant was still throwing glances my way; I really needed to ask him about that. Missy looked interested; apparently there might be some in depth testing with her now that they had heard my other ability. Then, the room let out a collective gasp as my mom finished talking about the new discoveries I made Wednesday morning.

Armsmaster turned to me. "You're sure you could affect water inside a plant?" I was confused. Reaching for my phone while nodding, I typed, 'Why wouldn't I be able to?' Plants have water in them, and I can control water. It made sense. He shook his head. Miss Militia said, "Most powers are limited by what we call the Manton Effect. To summarize, powers tend to either only affect nonliving things, or only living things. Fire users tend to be fire resistant, hydrokinetics tend to be unable to use stomach acids or blood, and telekinetics can't just crush organs directly. That sort of thing." Vista chimed in, "My power lets me warp space, for example. But the more living things in that space, or the closer I get to a living thing, the less I can affect it."

I typed, 'A. That makes no sense.' A few shrugs. 'B. I think I can be burned.' A slight frown from my mother. 'C. I'm pretty sure I can feel blood if I really try, but I don't want to hurt anyone.' I can definitely feel other body fluids now. Sweat and saliva were easy, and I could sense the others, but ew.

They took that in, then Armsmaster broke the silence. "Non-Manton capes are rare, and often exceptionally lethal if left untrained. I'll requisition some mice, and a few different plants. If what you say is true, it means more training for you in the future, but with practice, I'm confident you can use your powers without harming anyone." It was sobering to hear, but fair. I nodded agreement. I didn't want to hurt the mice, but I would have to suck it up and learn to work with my powers, or I would never be a hero.

After a minute or two of more boring stuff, the conference room was free to be evacuated, and we headed towards the gym and training facilities. Nestled near the center of the Rig, it was a cavernous room that reminded me a bit of the platinum crystal room of my first few worlds, minus the crystal and the music. It was strangely not that echo-y here either, despite the metallic walls. It also housed the widest ranged gym I had ever seen, and that barely took up a third of the place. A modular obstacle course, an area that looked like it raised out of the floor, and even a trampoline area, though I had no idea what that would help with- air control, maybe?

We headed to the gym area, and Armsmaster split off to get someone to go fetch the mice and stuff. We met up with a group of lab techs, and everyone but Armsmaster, Miss Militia, and Triumph headed off to nearby benches. I appreciated the show of support, but I couldn't help but feel like they didn't have to be here. Couldn't they have watched on video? Maybe they had nothing better to do.

The lab techs began by testing for a brute rating, just in case. Needles were pulled out, but quickly put away once the first one pierced my skin easily, and a blood sample was drawn for later testing. I deliberately did not try to see if I could hear the blood in the syringe. Save it for the hydrokinesis tests later. A band aid later, and brute rating was confirmed to be nil. I was certifiably just an overweight 8 year old.

Next came the checkup part of the exam. Basic stuff, pupils, reflexes, which were better than I remembered, but not super in any way, lifting strength tests, which came out to a measly 80 pounds if I put my all into it in a fireman carry, and 45 for deadlifts and presses. Basically, I wouldn't be dragging anyone but Vista away from a battle on my own, and I had no force behind my hits to an adult. Sucks being 8. I was a baseline human in all respects tested, but it was time to test my powers.

I couldn't test my terrakinesis that much here. They had me repeat the stomp I had done with a block of marble in front of me, then had me do it facing the other way. Both times, it rose up a few feet, then fell. They then showed me a few videos of a set of tae-kwon-do matches, and asked me to try to mimic them.

First surprise; I had a thinker 1 rating now. Apparently, I can mimic martial arts as I see them, not perfectly, but enough that I can refine it with practice. Combine that with not needing to sleep, and Miss Militia volunteered on the spot to help me train at night. I eagerly accepted; Miss Militia was awesome, and I had nothing better to do at night at the moment, so getting better with my powers would be awesome. My mom talked with her a bit about it while testing continued.

I proceeded to do the form correctly, and finished with a palm thrust. The rock flew up higher, and the palm thrust sent it flying forward at a decent speed. It hit the floor about fifty feet away, and I winced as it clanged on the floor. I tried another part of the form to bring it back, but it was sluggish to respond. I pulled out my phone as one of them went off to fetch it; 'I think this is the wrong fighting style for this,' I typed, 'Feels wrong. Misses beats.'

The techs decided to try another few, and so, for the next half hour, we went through several MMA fights and martial arts tournaments, me studiously watching the styles, while the others were kept from boredom by the same entertainment. Finally, I decided to try again, with a more grounded, forceful style. This time, the new stomp _resonated_ as it brought the slab over my head, and a few moments later, I had it hovering around my shoulders in a lazy circle, arms lifted in an Eidolon-esque pose, hands in fists. After a moment, I threw my hands forward in time with its beat, and it went rocketing across the open area, then with a pull, it came back to my feet.

I wanted to try one more thing with it, and typed as much. I asked, 'It okay if I damage this rock?' The said it was, so I assumed a new pose. Bouncing on the balls of my feet in time to the stone's rhythm, I threw a few test punches. I had the feeling the elements had versatility, and I needed something less grounded for fast opponents, so I decided to try kickboxing. I advanced a step, swept the stone up with a downward jab, and launched a flurry of punches along it. As I did, the rock split along rough seams, and each new chunk flew off just as fast as the whole had a minute ago. I couldn't really control them too finely, but they would make a good fast attack, and I would be more prepared to dodge.

I might need to have them up that thinker rating. I sure didn't know any combat strategy going into this.

Thinker 3 achieved, we decided to revisit the terrakinesis later, when there was more _terra_ to _kinesis_ or something. Time for pyrokinesis. Starting simple with stuff like extinguishing a candle, we quickly worked our way up to larger flames. I then pointed out that I could feel body heat, and after another minor Manton heart attack and a re-terming of it to thermokinesis, and warning me never to use it on people except for medical reasons, I was finally ready to try creating fire.

Fire was hard to create. As far as I could tell, my fire and my air abilities were very closely linked. Half the time I was trying to bring out the fire, I made a gust of hot air instead. Then I remembered; I had only ever brought out fire when I was emotional. I had punched a rock in anger, and fire came out in the crater I had made. I needed emotion to bring out my fire.

I forced myself think of my Trigger.

A floodgate was opened. I was angry at myself, for being so selfish. I was horrified at the idea I had gone so far. I pitied myself for thinking it would do anything but kill me. I wished my classmates could have seen what they really did to me.

The fire roared outward towards their targets, consuming and boiling, and I knew I could bring it back with but a thought now. It hurt, but the fire would show my pain when I needed it to. The heat settled in my stomach, purring at the attention. Gallant stood up, and left the room. I felt better, much better now that I had actually looked at my emotions, not so empty like I had been feeling for a while now. I wanted to cry, but I had more testing to do. The lab techs were praising me, and Armsmaster looked contemplative as he gazed at the scorched metal panel across from us.

"Do you think you can change the temperature of your flame? Try making it orange instead of red," a lab tech said. I responded, 'Maybe. Can you show me hotter flames here?' Armsmaster responded by flipping his halberd off his back, doing something with it – And then a chorus of sounds much like the fire sung out as he activated a plasma edge on the blade. It was powerful, beautiful, bluish-white, and I really, really wanted to be able to make it. I motioned for them to step back, focused on the heat inside, and made a sharp motion, spinning into a roundhouse kick. A blade of plasma was formed; it also immediately exploded, flinging me backward. Ow. I smelled singed clothes and hair. I also felt mildly bruised.

I think I'd need to practice that one. A lot.

After a quick check that all was well, we moved on to air. Aerokinesis. Gotta make it difficult to spell. Air was easier, now that I knew the fire. Motions not unlike those used to swim seemed to fit, and it certainly lent itself to lightweight, fast combat. I was vehemently opposed when I suggested I try the flying cloud kick thing, and pouted a bit until they pointed out I wouldn't even hurt the guy I used it on, since I had no strength. It would look so cool though.

I did find out that my aerokinesis lent itself to enhancing my movements, adding more speed when I ran, and so on. I could also create bubbles of low pressure to knock people unconscious, filter gasses, and even deflect or assist projectiles. They also noted that this power would add to my shaker rating, alongside the terrakinesis. The movements were unobtrusive, and I found I could even do a decent bit of stuff just by twirling a finger. That gave me a thought. 'Do you have a rod, or staff?'

A staff was fetched, and my hunch confirmed. I could control my elements on a greater scale by gesturing with a stick. It made no sense, but no power always does. I would still do it, even if it made me look like a shepherd or monk. Maybe see if there were any cool alchemical staves to go with my name. Own the campy tool usage.

I set it down, and we broke for a quick lunch, then continued to the final, and most anticipated of the elements, hydrokinesis. It was the easiest to work with, to be honest. I had gotten so caught up testing it the other night, and now I had the new martial arts stuff in my head. It resonated when I moved it, flowed up and down, side to side, hit a target, everything. They asked me to try ice; it had a different sound, felt more like rock, but it moved just fine. Moreover, I could turn it to water, back to ice, then to steam, and control each.

Then came the Manton tests. I sat for a minute, feeling outwards, and then grabbed the small sapling in my power. I had it bend side to side, wave with a single branch, and, at their prompting and with a small regret, easily pulled the water from the plant and into a jug. Measurements were made to determine the amount versus the total weight of the plant, and so on. Then, they brought out a side of a pig. Jordan looked a little queasy, so mom took him out, holding the door for Gallant as he returned.

I asked for quiet, and began feeling out with my powers. The pig was there, I could feel it, but I couldn't hear the harmony of water. I listened closer, and now, I still couldn't hear the pig well, but I could hear the lab tech next to me. His sounds were varied. He had the melody of air as he breathed, the harmony of moisture on his breath, his tongue, his pits, his groin, his bladder, his stomach, and around his brain and heart. All very gross to feel, but I needed to hear what I was searching for since the pig was so faint. I listened more. Beneath the gross-but-beautiful chorus of his body, there was a steady thrum, to melodic for me to possibly keep up with correctly, too faint to matter even if I could. It was, in fact, his blood. I sighed in relief, and began to type.

'Blood is both hard to sense and complex to work with.' 'I doubt I can do accidental harm to anyone with it.' 'I can do other bodily fluids pretty well, I think.' 'Including, possibly, the fluid surrounding the brain and heart.' Shocked looks, but I continued, 'I doubt I could ever do those accidentally,' 'It took concentration for the less exposed or less pure fluids.'

"We'll still practice with a medic on hand, of course. I think that's safe enough that we could okay your hydrokinesis for use in fights, though, especially if your control keeps improving." Armsmaster said. Nods came from the other capes around the gym.

Finally, they asked me to demonstrate the dream worlds. First, they needed me to go into one, look around while they tried to rouse me, exiting after two minutes if they could not, then describe it. I reluctantly complied. I chose a world at random, and let myself be pulled in.

Disorientation. Wonder. Depression. Focus. Where was I?

I started to count around 10, with the whole starting bit, while looking around. I was in a courtyard, surrounded by a building _best_ described as 'Escher gets Dali pregnant, as painted by Picasso.' The building looked like it was built in modules, those modules were randomized, then they were connected all wrong, then size warped to boot. It was fascinating. 40. I had a feeling I could walk straight up an upside-down staircase, and only I knew the routes that would lead to the next courtyard, because this was _my_ world. 100. I quickly took note of the plants, sakura-like, but with star-shaped leaves, and the leafy plant on the ground with – Were those _endless abysses of stars_ instead of flowers? No time. 119. I opened my eyes.

They had poked and prodded, yelled and whispered, even sprayed me with water. I could not wake while in my worlds, unless I willed it. They then asked me to describe it, to which I replied, 'Why don't I show you all?' After a short discussion, it was agreed this would be faster, if not quite as orthodox. An all-call went out on the speakers. "Attention. Shaker Power Testing in progress in the Gym. Do not be alarmed, and avoid entry to affected areas unless authorized to do so." After that, I was given the go-ahead. I pushed.

The Areas unfolded, the worlds swung into view, and I filled the Gym with my world. In the moments it began to fill the benches, I willed them to remain, and as I watched, they converted to the same material as the stone beneath them. I coughed, and held up a hand to get their attention. I hadn't tried that before. I pulled out my phone, and typed, 'Don't wander on the stairs, I'd have to find you.' Then, after murmurs of assent, I typed, 'I think I can also change this area at will. Benches weren't here.' I gestured at the benches. Apparently, everyone had been caught up in the other stuff growing out of midair, and hadn't noticed their seats.

The lab techs spread out, as did Armsmaster. Miss Militia looked around, and I realized I might not have it quite so bad. I couldn't dream, but at least I had these worlds. I could pretend to sleep, and explore. She was unable to do so, as far as I knew. I knelt down, picking a star-flower and handing it to her. I hoped my look of sympathy was right, and gestured for her to look around and enjoy herself. I turned away before she did, and walked over to Vista, who was far from alone in looking around in wonderment.

"This is amazing," she said in awe, "You have no idea. I can feel the warped space in here, and it's doing stuff I never even dreamed of trying!" She pointed at what I knew was an exceptionally messy intersection nearby. "You see that? As far as I can tell, this place warped the space here so that the left side can only ever be one-way. It has some kind of impossible 1-sided twist as you pass the intersection. Then going right makes you end up going left, going left takes you over there," she pointed behind me, "and going straight…huh. It goes… Elsewhere?" I nodded. It took you to the next courtyard, but that was not _here._

Velocity walked over, and I shook his hand as he offered it. "Wow, this is some power. Dare I ask how many of these you have?" I thought as I contemplated the ring at the edge of my vision, the feeling like a book of endless possibilities. I shrugged. He paled. "You don't know, you can't count that high, or you don't think there's a limit?" I held up three fingers, and he rushed off to tell Dauntless. I think I scared him, a bit. Vista looked shocked, too. So did everyone else who saw that.

Oops?

Triumph came over, and clarified my confusion. "Welcome to the team, person who probably just got a rating of 'Shaker, just give up'!"

That broke the tension, and after a few laughs, everyone went back to looking around. Armsmaster was busy threatening the trees with his Halberd; I could only hope he was scanning it or something. Dauntless and Velocity were chatting about something. One of the lab techs was taking close-ups of the flowers, while the others were checking the material of the stone tiles, scanning the trees, and taking pictures of the labyrinth around us. My family stood near the center of the fat cross of the main courtyard, Mom keeping Jordan from running off, Jordan resenting Mom for holding him, and David taking it all in. Kid Win and Gallant were also chatting, and Vista was talking to Triumph while twisting space a bit in front of her.

After a few minutes, they finally asked me to try altering the area around me. I decided I wanted a chair, and lo and behold, a chair slowly grew from the ground. I wanted a comfy chair, and the chair grew a soft, dry moss coating. I wanted a cloth chair, and nothing happened. I tried again, but the chair refused to change. I gave up, typing, '1st was a chair, 2nd a comfy chair.' 'Can't make it a normal cloth comfy chair though.' "Try making a pit?" I willed a pit in the floor, and a section of tile before me became a covered pitfall after about 30 seconds. I wanted it uncovered, and the tiles retracted. The pit was lined with the same tile as the floor, and the bottom was coated in pink star leaves, like it had been here already. "Okay, try making it out of steel, instead of stone?" Nothing. No change at all. I shook my head.

The tech said, "Okay, I think I've got it. Your power can alter your area, but the changes have to stick with a general theme. We can test this a third time by having you try to make a chair with a metal seat, and stone legs. Go ahead." I tried, and four small pillars began to rise in the pit, ending around knee height. "There we go. Okay, how large is your range? Does it just fill the room you're in?" I shook my head, began typing. 'I think it increases over time, and resets once I leave an area.' 'I feel it growing about a cm a second, give or take.' 'It was faster the other night.' 'I'm only affecting this room, but I'm covering much of the Rig by now.' 'Unless I've misgauged its size.'

My powers might be a _bit_ bullshit.

"So it's…2:30 now, you've been in this room since around nine thirty, and now you can basically control the Rig if you needed to, say, to defend it from invading capes?" Armsmaster said. "The strategic advantages alone…"

'I think I could even find a world that has similar materials,' 'Control a location without giving it away.' After all, now that I knew I could shape the world I brought through, and my power gave me a map of the area as I affected it, I could just replace the real world with my world, and let people walk through former walls while boxing others in. It was a shame, though, as doing so would leave the actual dream world behind, and would probably take a lot of thinking to craft.

"Speaking of which, can you turn off your power now, Materia? I believe we have finished testing, at least in this world." They'd checked one courtyard out of millions, but I mentally shrugged and let the worlds recede out of view. I felt a bit of loss; I was getting more used to seeing them, and though I still didn't like them much, I felt better knowing just how powerful I was with them.

Miss Militia looked down, and said, "Umm… I still have the flower." A swarm of researchers descended upon it, and I felt bad. I gave the flower to her, but it just had to come back with us, and now the lab coats were yammering about 'not a projection' and 'quarantine the flower' and apparently, 'aliens'. I sighed. This had been a long day, and breaking reality and spawning alien life are just part of my life now, because I wasn't even surprised. I hoped my life from now on wouldn't be quite so bizarre.

I could only hope.


	9. Creation 1-D

Creation 1.D

There was something very wrong with Dean's new teammate.

Dean had seen many things before. Classmates suffering from depression, alcoholic rage in a mugger, Oni Lee's grim determination as he pulled a pin, the last emotions of a jumper he'd been trying to talk down, even. Emotions were glowing auras to him, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn't turn it off. Yes, Dean had seen a lot of things.

His new teammate was hard to look at.

Michael, or Materia, was an eight year old boy. A little chubby, glasses, the kind of cute that might be a looker one day, if he lost the fat. Dean had seen eight year olds before, and their auras were far from as simple as they acted sometimes; by eight, every kid already has secrets, and some kids are even starting puberty. They were far from being teens, actually closer to a boring adult in terms of emotion, usually.

Materia was not usual.

Gallant had done a double-take upon seeing that the aura he had sensed belonged to a kid. It should have belonged on a hard criminal, or a war-torn soldier, or a cape come from an Endbringer fight. It was _hard,_ and _dark,_ and _sad._ It was being covered by a thin veneer of happiness, and inquiry, and all the little things most third graders felt meeting Wards; but that just made it worse, like a PTSD victim _wearing_ an 8-year-old. There was determination holding the veneer on like a string, but Gallant knew it might not hold. It was not healthy, whatever the case.

He tried to take him aside, but every time he tried to get his attention, he had looked away. Not that he'd had a chance anyway, since the afternoon had pretty much not given him a chance to talk to him anyway, especially after the whole Sophia thing. He'd left, and Dean had put it out of mind, resolving to tell their therapist so they would be ready for it.

He'd enjoyed his Thanksgiving as much as the next trust fundie, spending it taking Vicky to the mall, then to the movies, then she took him to a tower rooftop for a sunset. The inevitable conclusion occurred; he was asked to dinner the next night, which he accepted because he was a sucker for her. The dinner was awkward, with how many problems the Dallons had, but Dean just didn't know how to bring it up without irrevocably hurting his relationship with them. He may hit rough patches with Vicky from time to time, but he cared about her, and knew she was the kind of person who would hate him for talking about her family in those terms, so he just tried to ignore the auras around the table, anchoring himself to Vicky's instead.

The next day, Materia's power was scheduled for testing. Most of the team decided to come; Dennis begged off to spend time with his family, and Aegis was on patrol, with Sophia on console. Despite the issue with his aura, Dean was genuinely interested in seeing his powers. By the sound of it, he might be powerful, and it was either this or sit at home, alone with his giant, empty house. It went okay, too; the planning bit had some major power indicators already, and his terrakinetic abilities showed versatility. Any cape could have done well with just that and the Thinker rating they discovered. For him, it was the tip of the gigantic iceberg.

He almost lost his lunch when they got to fire generation.

He had been staring straight at Materia, wondering what the boy was doing. He had tried several times to produce even a spark, but was meeting no success, and had gone still, his aura shifting with disappointment and realization – then the bubble _popped_.

For a few seconds, Gallant stared into an abyss of self-deprecating, all-consuming depression. Worse, it was tinged with normal emotions, but they could not pierce the center. He watched as Materia took his emotions apart, assessed them, and fed his depression into his power, all to make a ball of fire. He had to leave. He couldn't watch that again.

He sat outside, almost running back in when there was a resounding BANG, but he needed to think about it all. What was wrong with Materia? _What kind of 8-year-old could_ do _that to themselves?_

He would have thought he was mastered, but a master wouldn't need to do that to the target, and what kind of long game was joining the Wards at 8? What could cause that kind of trauma, and why, oh why, had he decided not to take psychology? Maybe if he hadn't wanted to share a class with Vicky, he might have been able to understand. There was nothing for it, in the end; he would advise their therapist about it, next Monday, and hopefully they could help him.

He headed back in.

Materia was meditating, he could tell; he was standing, but his emotions were being suppressed. They had formed a new system of layers, with the depression now separate and present in the bubble of surface feelings, and the bubble interacted with the lower layers more. He was relieved to hear that Materia could not affect blood, since that was just a terrifying prospect in general. He'd heard about Watch, who could pinch _small sections_ of blood vessels and nerves and left his victims crippled at best.

Finally, they decided to test his dream world. He laid down, closed his eyes, and all his emotions flickered for a moment. Then, a quick series of emotions; _pleasure, wonder, crushed by self-deprecation, then mild confusion_ ; and then the normal set returned, with occasional wonder seeping past the bubble of calm. _Why suppress his own sense of wonder?_ What was all that at the beginning?

Materia's mother had a growing sense of worry as more and more things were tried in an attempt to wake him, but it was fine; Materia woke up a few seconds past two minutes, and all was well. Then, an argument was had over something he had 'said', and a few minutes of waiting later, an announcement went out. They were going to test his shaker power here, and maybe he would get some answers, at least to his most recent questions.

Materia paused a moment more, then Gallant was distracted by the sight before him. The gym was blooming. It was the best way to describe the look of stairs unfolding from the now-stony floor, then watching as the stairs folded in on each other, becoming a labyrinthine maze of folded space. That was the backdrop for a courtyard easily 150 feet across, in a fat cross pattern, with gardens of Pink-leaved trees and black flowers speckled with white. Gallant also noticed that everyone experienced similar senses of wonder, even as their focuses were on different things in the courtyard.

Materia told them not to go into the maze, and everyone spread out around the area. Gallant walked over to Kid Win. "Wow, some power, am I right?" Kid said. "I already have a few ideas about some equipment, and maybe a small Idea on a staff for him." "What staff? He didn't have a staff when I left?" "Oh yeah, he got an idea that he might be able to work even better with a rod or staff, and it gave him a big boost. I was thinking a taser staff, with some gravity tech built in, but I need to think more on it. You have any ideas?"

Gallant wanted to say, but it wasn't his place to talk about other's emotions. Instead, he smiled and said, "I was thinking how much synergy he and Vista will have, if he can really do this in combat. He makes it, she shapes it, and he hits them down if they get close." Kid nodded, smiling. "I wonder if he can affect the environment, make it rain or something. I doubt it's a projection, since my thermals aren't picking up on cold spots from the gym equipment."

The conversation went on like that for a while, pausing when the room found out the cape had a potentially unlimited pool of these worlds, but continuing until testing resumed. Materia was versatile, powerful, eager to learn, and oh so broken inside. It didn't hurt to look so much, now, but that just made it easier to stare at the veneer, to try to stare past it. First thing Monday, he would talk to the therapist about this.

He just hoped they could help him.


	10. Stasis 2-1

A/N: Over on the Spacebattles thread, I've done a bit of commentary on my thoughts going into this series. I hope it can answer some questions people here on FFN may have.

Stasis 2.1

That night, my mom let me stay over so I could begin training with Miss Militia. Apparently, the sooner I could defend myself, the better. I also liked the time without a huge crowd watching, and it was better than another night reading alone.

Plus, one of the best ways to learn martial arts for me involves watching cheesy old movies!

We'd retired to a smaller training area with padded walls and an array of training weaponry. Miss militia had gotten the projector and screen from earlier, and we were watching some Bruce Lee. I was dutifully taking in every moment of action, letting my brain learn the basics of dozens of forms. Meanwhile, I was asking Hannah (we had unmasked by this point) some important questions.

'What's it like to never sleep?' was my first, most pressing question. She took a minute, then responded, "Do you remember… them?"

I was reminded of the things at the beginning of my dream. She knew about them? I thought they were part of my worlds, and put them out of mind. 'The things in the void?' A sharp intake of breath. "You are the first cape I've ever asked that could remember them, besides myself. Everyone else looks confused." She reached out, and paused the movie. "Michael, I'd like to tell you about my trigger event."

She told me about her happy village in the jungle, her family and all her friends in the village. She talked about being taken from her home, knowing her family was dead, and being forced to be a human minesweeper at gunpoint. Hannah told me about the moment she knew she couldn't step forward, how she saw the beings in the void, how she forgot afterward, how she stopped the men. She told me that she had perfect memory, and could sleep if she wanted to, and when she slept, she relived it all. That she only remembered the godlings because she remembered her dreams perfectly, and how she knew she wasn't crazy, that it was everyone else who had forgotten, and couldn't talk about it.

It was heartbreaking.

I told her about my life in return, in jilted, robotic snippets. I told her how my dad wouldn't visit, how my mom was quietly broken inside, how my brothers each had their own issues with anger and depression. I told her how little I had known about the world, how little say I had in my life, and how it had left me in a school of kids who didn't want to talk to me. How any attempt to find friends was shot down, how any attempt to succeed was met with ridicule for being too smart, but how they never did anything you could confront someone about. How my life had fallen apart in the last half of second grade, leaving me with nothing from the good days except my own family.

I told her about the realization over the summer, the jokes I had never gotten making sense, hurting more in the remembering, and the loss of innocence as my new viewpoint was only confirmed over the year. How I lost hope, lost sight of everything important, just knew I couldn't do another few years of this. I described the attempt, not a call for help; I had really climbed up there to kill myself, and had waited for my family to see, to let them hurt. How the moment I fell, I regretted it all, and how the last thing I felt was pain.

I told her how I dreamed of the two creatures spiraling, how I could hear their thoughts, how they were so different in intent. I remembered a flash as 1 piece hit another, and then I was in the dream worlds. I finally told Hannah how the worlds were each the greatest thing I had ever seen, like waking up in Yellowstone when the stars were like a river in the sky, and the moon is bright enough to see by, but you knew that the entire world was that beautiful. I told her how every time I went to one, I was reminded that I could escape, that nothing could touch me there. I told her how I wasn't afraid of villains, I would fight Endbringers if I was able, but I was scared I couldn't be strong enough to resist my own powers.

By the end of it all, I was crying as I typed, and she had me in a half hug so that I could see my phone. I was tired, and sad, and relieved to finally get it out there. I had confronted these feelings a bit when I learned how to call my fire, but this was the first time I had told anyone the full extent of my issues. I needed that, and couldn't thank her enough for letting me talk about it for a while. I set down my phone and leaned into the hug, and we just sat there for a time.

Finally, I dried my tears, gave a weak smile, and grabbed my phone, typing, 'You think we can get some ice cream or something before we start the movie again? She laughed a little, nodded, and we donned our masks. Their cafeteria didn't have much selection in ice cream, but chocolate would do. We hurried back, nodding at the night guards as we passed them in the halls, and returned to the sparring room to finish our entertainment in more companionable silence. Ice cream was had, and it was the best thing I'd ever eaten, plain chocolate soothing all the little problems for a little while longer.

-Shangri-La-

Hannah was a tough, but fair teacher. Her perfect memory meant she could see every little thing I had gotten wrong with the last kata, and point it out to me, but repletion was the only way to make sure my body knew how to do the motions correctly. We realized that the main problem I had was that any motion I saw was intended for a more adult body type when she asked me to do a grab and I grabbed down, instead of up. By the time I was a teen, I might be able to learn martial arts just by watching, but I couldn't afford to wait that long, and to be honest, I could afford to lose some weight.

So repetition and correction was the way to go. I quietly thanked Amy again for the tune-up, because I was already tired, and the only reason I wasn't sweaty was because I was taking it straight to the floor with my powers. It felt like cheating, but keeping my clothes clean and practicing with my powers was a win-win. I offered the same to Hannah, but she declined, citing wanting to work up a sweat as her reasoning. We worked on the forms well into the early morning, then hit the showers before heading up for an early breakfast. The kitchen staff were busy at work, cooking up a storm of sausage and biscuits for the departing night shift and arriving day shift, and we helped ourselves to some as well.

Last night had been a good thing. I really felt like Miss Militia understood me now, and that I could trust her both as a member of the team and as an adult. I was glad to have helped her out, too. I literally couldn't imagine spending so many years remembering something perfectly when nobody else remembered it at all. Neither of us had any idea what it meant, but at least we knew there was someone like us out there, and that they were close to home. I looked forward to more grueling training and movie nights in the future.

Speaking of which… 'Before I get taken home, can we go over my team's powers?' I had just realized that we had forgotten that little detail, while we were going over my powers. Miss Militia nodded, taking a moment to swallow before saying, "I thought you had met the other Wards already?" I shrugged, typed 'We forgot to talk about their powers,' and gave her an expression like 'what can you do?'

After breakfast, she took me back to the training room, which was surprisingly not smelly; I would have expected a smallish room full of sweat would get a bit musky, but maybe they had something to deal with that. Hannah pulled down her scarf, and went to the laptop next to the projector, pulling up a file onto the projector screen. A picture of Triumph popped up, and she began with the rundown of powers.

I found out a few interesting things over the next few hours. Gallant could see emotions, and shoot blasts that affected them as well. Aegis could adapt his own biology. Clockblocker didn't just freeze people, he could freeze anything in place, and nothing seemed to affect the thing until his power ended. I had so many ideas for that, not the least of which was a counter-prank for that handshake he tricked me with. Stalker had, in short, a ninja's dream powers, and Kid made _friggin laser beams._ Vista and I would be training together in the future, as even I got starry-eyed at the sheer synergy in battlefield control we had together.

Triumph was moving up to the Protectorate before Christmas, but regardless, he seemed to cover areas that had gaps. He added wide area attacks, was strong enough to overpower normal people, and healed better than normal, too. Assault could redirect kinetic force through his body, including his own hits, and teamed with his wife Battery, who charged, then basically became amazing for a bit. Armsmaster was a Tinker with an absurdly useful specialty, and a talent for melee combat.

Dauntless was rather confusingly a Trump/Tinker who imbued items with powers, slowly adding layers of ability each day until they would (hopefully) become godlike in power. This confused me more because it had nothing to do with tinkering, but I guess everyone makes mistakes. Velocity had super-speed, but could only affect the world a little as he gained speed, and had to exert more effort to bring things heavier than clothes with him. He made up for it, though; to him, it was the world that seemed to slow around him, giving him super reflexes, insane battle awareness, and time to think about problems.

"… and of course, I have perfect memory, never need sleep, and can create any weapon I've ever seen, save more complex Tinkertech. I don't just mean guns; anything that can be loosely classed as a weapon, my energy can become." She demonstrated by turning the knife she had at her waist into a gun, then a garrote wire, then, with a smile, a solid rubber chicken, then back to a knife. "That's all of the Protectorate and Wards. You'll be briefed on the other teams in the city another day. For now, we need to get you home. I believe we'll continue training tonight, if that's okay with your family. Give your mom my card, have her call me if you can't make it tonight." She handed me a card, then gestured toward the door. "Let's go."

-Shangri-La-

I was feeling sore all over, and there was still much to do. My mother and I had several extracurricular activities that needed cancelling. I was a member of a local swim team, a Cub Scout, and my school needed to be notified of my new disability and 'necessary tutoring' that would begin taking place each afternoon. The new 'tutoring' was the excuse for any patrols or other events in the Wards, and most of the time it would be actual tutoring, learning sign language, and attending a Parahumans 101 class alongside Missy. Yay.

Much driving was had that day, and I got the feeling that emotional trauma and subsequent muteness made for a great excuse for cutting all manner of ties, and lent itself to sympathetic looks and well wishes. It hurt, seeing the looks of pity and realizing I would probably never see my fellow members again, except in passing. But, it had to be done. The Wards program was understandably time-consuming, and I had it even worse off than most Wards. I would need extra classes, to keep up with my team's education level in the more important areas; PR classes, and building a heroic persona from the ground up; nightly martial arts with Hannah; sign language and tap code classes, briefings to bring a non-cape-nerd into the loop, more briefings on rules and regs, even more briefings on who knows what else, and Monday therapy sessions.

I was never, ever, _ever_ going to have free time again, was I?

I sighed, still wishing I had a voice as I did so; it was so _odd_ , how many little noises I could no longer make. A sigh wasn't the same without a little vocal hum to it; a laugh was a huffing, raspy thing without some _HAH_ behind it. I stared out the widow of the car, watching the people walk by as we waited for the light, wondering if it was a brain thing, or if I had just forgot how to use my vocal chords, or something. I listened to the radio, some pop song playing, and hoped being a hero had been the right decision, not just for my powers, but for _me._

Of course it was, brain! I might be missing out on swimming, but now I could _control_ water. Why would I need to learn how to gather wood when I could throw fire? Who needed a tent when you could summon a palace on a whim, and who cared about medals or belt loops when you could put people who deserved it in prison? I would miss the people, but that was nothing new. People left my life all the time. I would be fine.

We pulled up to another stop, and a part of me noted a black van pulling up next to us at the light. A Toyota, maybe? I didn't really care. The driver was a gruff looking man with sunglasses, and he glanced around, maybe looking at me and my mom, then on to the traffic in the intersection. The light changed, and he pulled away from us, turning right. I returned to my thoughts, my mom keeping her eyes on the road.

I was going on about all the downsides, but at the end of the day, I was now absurdly powerful, and I had a duty to others to help the city. I enjoyed most of the other Wards' company, and thought Armsmaster was a good leader and that Miss Militia was a good person. Even Deputy Director Renick was a nice person, and that wasn't easy for someone who was in charge of stuff. The only person I had had any real problem with was Stalker, and that was a bad day for her.

Another intersection.

I studied the brown sedan next to us with boredom, noting the Lords Elementary sticker on the side. Hey, we went to school together. Great.

I had no friends at school.

I hated school.

Lots of kids hate _going_ to school. I didn't. I wanted to learn, often felt driven by a need to know. I was a Ravenclaw, regardless of the fact that that was fiction. I liked my teachers, and much of the administration. I didn't hate school for being school. I hated it because the students going to my school were selfish, and exclusive, and judgmental. I hated it because the way grades are measured gave me a disadvantage, focusing too much on busywork without measuring learning ability.

I hated school, because school seemed to hate me.

We pulled into the lot, and I let the scowl drop off my face. Wouldn't do to look upset with being here, even if it was a Saturday. We walked into the front office, and were directed to the Principal's office. He closed the door behind us, and he and my mom exchanged pleasantries as we sat.

Principal Louis was an imposing man, but a jovial one. Slightly overweight and wearing square glasses, he looked like the picture of a dad who took you fishing on a lake, and was generally very kind as he interacted with the students. I didn't blame him for not noticing my problems, either. He was in his office most of the day, or wandering the halls like it was his home. My struggles passed in silence beneath his watch, that was all.

My mom handed him the Wards notice, and he looked it over with surprise. Not every week one of your students gains powers. After a few minutes reading it, he nodded, finally acknowledging me. "Mr. Vanderbilt, we're happy to have you join our tutoring program, and will of course take steps to protect your identity while doing so. I trust you realize that you will still have to keep up with your schoolwork, but considering your already present accommodations, that shouldn't be too much of a problem, right?" I didn't respond. My accommodations were patronizing at best, because they were designed less for intelligent students and more for the other end of the scale.

My mother took my silence to be assent, and said, "About that, Mark. Michael lost his voice when he got his powers, and will be learning sign language to compensate. Until then, he will be writing or using his phone to communicate, so please notify the teachers about that. If the school has any decent recordings that include his voice, we would sincerely appreciate it if you could loan them to us. There is a chance we could at least give him an approximation of his old voice back."

The principal nodded. "We'll give it a look Ms. Vanderbilt. I of course can't promise anything, but we'll try." He opened his hands. "Is there anything else we need to be aware of?"

I pulled out my phone. They looked at me with surprise, moreso when the phone said in its robotic tones, 'I want you to crack down on bullying.' He gave me an appraising look. "Michael, we have a no-tolerance policy on bullying here at Lords Elementary. If you have had a problem with bullies, why haven't you taken it to the staff?" I bristled. Furiously typing, the phone failed to convey any indignation as it said, 'I did tell the staff. No evidence of bullying found.' 'Rules fail to help with isolation and verbal bullying tactics.' He nodded a little at that, but asked, "What do you mean by isolation?"

'Nobody will be my friend. Last pick in everything.' 'Sit alone at lunch. Nobody talks to me.' He shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry to hear that, but the school cannot help you make friends. If you can record the verbal bullying, we can use that as evidence to punish those responsible." He raised a hand at my mother's rise to protest. "I do not like hearing that a classroom environment has become so toxic that a boy can be bullied without consequence. I will be scheduling additional training for all teachers, as well as directing them to have a special classroom discussion, and perhaps, with the cooperation of the PRT, an appearance by the Wards to talk about the problem. I must stress that while the classes for teachers will start as soon as I can schedule it, any major improvements will not be immediate, and major events like assemblies must wait until after winter break. Is this satisfactory, Mister Vanderbilt?"

I thought about it. I was not surprised the school couldn't directly help. The fact was, even if this didn't work, it was better than I had expected. I wasn't happy with it, but he was right, in the end. I nodded my assent.

"Good. If that is all for today?" "I believe so." "Good. Michael, your accommodations will be updated, and from now on you will be excused from school following recess, to attend special tutoring. A full list of instructions on where to report and what to say will be passed to you with the morning announcement sheet. Have a nice day, and I'll see you Monday." With that, we were shown the door, and he went back to typing on his computer.

My mom and I walked across the lot in silence. I was never one for conversation, and I got the feeling today was one of her bad days. My thoughts were confirmed when we drove to the nearest Sonic and she ordered three shakes and a malt, and we headed home.

There was much rejoicing as we came in with the shakes, and we were quickly coerced into a new game of Monopoly, which, when combined with sugary goodness, did much to recover my good mood. I did pretty well for myself, but in the end, David threw the game because Jordan had accused us of cheating on our dice rolls and was pouting. The traitor sold half his properties at a pittance, leaving my youngest brother with almost no money, but half the board. Since he had just gone, he reaped huge amounts out of us, and we basically had to bankrupt ourselves each turn. Stupid brotherly love.

Afterwards, we scattered once more. I went to my room. I fed my fish, then turned to the bed. It was just a stupid window. I wanted to read on my bed, and I wouldn't be stopped by some silly hole with glass in it. I grabbed a book.

Actually, the armchair in the living room sounded good.

Hours of sky-swashbuckling later, I set down the book. Dinner was ready, and we ate in silence, nothing to talk about between the four of us. After it was cleaned up, I changed into some comfortable clothes for exercise, and we headed back to the Rig, to drop me off for the night. For work. What a strange thought. I, a tiny little kid, now had a minimum wage job.

Hiegh Ho, Hiegh Ho.


	11. Stasis 2-2

A/N: There's a poll up on the Spacebattles thread. Vote for your favorite cape name over there, or suggest a better one. I'll be picking from the top two results. Poll closes Wednesday. Anyways, back to the show!

Stasis 2.2

Hannah and I enjoyed _Rocky_ that night, plus some kickboxing and MMA, followed by light sparring, which mostly featured me hitting the floor a lot. Thank God, my powers helped me learn how to fall correctly, even if it wasn't correctly for someone my size. Boxing was fun, and more importantly, as Hannah pointed out, the dodging techniques and stances were useful for keeping myself unhurt. Still, by the end of the night, I sported several sore spots and light bruises.

As morning dawned, we got some coffee. Sure, it did nothing to wake us up, but apparently, that just means it makes for a great pick-me-up after a night of training. The cafeteria on the Rig was amazing; I asked about it, and apparently, they designed it specifically in case the city needed relief efforts. It was large and well-stocked enough to make over 50,000 meals a day, assuming it was fully staffed, for up to a week. As a side effect, they could make just about anything, and had the chefs to match.

After a tasty breakfast (and some idle wondering if I could find and eat dream-potatoes if I searched my worlds, and whether they would make even better hash browns than these or not), I got a ride home. Upon entering my house, I was greeted by a mildly indignant mother. "Why are you only getting home now?" I shrugged, confused. It was only 7:30? "Go upstairs and get cleaned up. You only have an hour before we leave for Sunday School."

Oh, right. It was Sunday.

I quickly showered, got dressed up in a teal button-down shirt and some khaki slacks, and got downstairs before 8:30. We headed out a few minutes later. It was a longish drive; the church was all the way on the other side of downtown from us, all the way on the outskirts of the southern half of the city. The traffic wasn't too bad, just a small reroute from a minor cape fight downtown.

My family wasn't the most devout family, but in this day and age, Christians were a dying breed. Even rarer were old-school, pre-Scion or pre-Endbringer doctrines. We weren't just Christian, we were _Lutheran_. There were two Lutheran churches in the whole city, and one was temporarily closed. Even with that, my church was rather low on attendance. That just made my mom more determined to go.

The thing people who aren't Lutherans don't know about them; It is a historical fact that Lutherans do not back down from a fight. We are _determined_. The founder of our denomination was studying to be a lawyer until he decided to devote his life to the church. When he found corruption, he brought it to his supervisor; when his supervisor told him to shut up, he _wrote out 95 logical arguments and nailed them to the church door._ When the Pope told him to stop ruining business, he didn't, and thus became the original inspiration for pretty much every Protestant denomination.

So, our little church was determined to sing praise till kingdom come, be it by Endbringer, or Antichrist, or second coming of Christ (Scion was _probably_ not that), etc. It was the part I think I would miss most. I had had a beautiful singing voice. I used to mimic the singing voices of people around me, and that meant I had gotten quite a range. Now it was gone.

Sunday school was disheartening. Jordan was with me to explain things, but half the kids there didn't understand, and the older kids gave me pity instead of comradery. I had to stand quietly during the songs, and sit quietly during the lesson. This was the fourth or fifth time hearing David and Goliath, so I didn't pay too much attention. Crafts were done, and I headed upstairs to join my family for church, Jordan in tow.

The service wasn't _bad_ , I was just bored. I had never realized how much of it was based on congregation response. The organist was beautiful, and the hymns a chorus of strength; I found that feeling the air with my powers was super interesting. I could feel the music, how it interacted with the feeling the air normally had, interplaying with the silent melody of wind. I think, though, the best part was the sermon.

Before, the sermon was just a long talk that happened before the children's message, but now, I was unable to participate in the rest of the service. Our pastor, Daniel Peterson, was a strong-voiced man with a conversational but passionate tone. He stood at the lectern, hands on either side, and began to speak.

His sermon started with a bible verse about thanks, to tie into Thanksgiving, but quickly turned into a stirring speech about the things we should be thankful for. He talked about how few things in our lives were not taken for granted, simple things like food, water, shelter, family. He talked about the hierarchy of needs, the pyramid founded on these basic needs. But, he continued, the Hierarchy of needs was far from the rule. A person could be miserable even if all their basic needs, and a person could indeed fulfill an upper tier of need, like wealth, or companionship without a basic one like shelter, or a steady food supply. In a darker world, these may be harder to come by, but as long as there is goodness in the world, there can be those who defy the natural order, who rise above simply wanting and truly enjoying what they had.

It was a moving sermon. I was thankful for my life, thankful for my family, thankful for getting a second chance. I was focusing too much on the bad, when there was so much good in my life. I sat, thinking about it, not bothering with the children's message. I couldn't participate, although now that it was too late to go, I realized I would have enjoyed the simple word games and stuff to bear out the remainder of the service.

Sigh.

-Shangri-La-

I dodged to the left, ducking under the fist flying toward me, then leaped out of the way of the following knee that had been intended for my stomach. I flowed between a few forms of tai chi, sending water in whip like tentacles at my foe, who nimbly dodged or deflected the tendrils. I tried entangling their feet in the vines of the rocky jungle floor, pulling manually with my power when they wouldn't grow up fast enough. It paid off; my opponent tripped, and a series of lifting motions locked their hands to the ground with struts of rock.

Vista patted the ground thrice, signaling defeat. I nodded, motioned pushing down while breathing out, and the improvised cuffs retracted. I helped her up, while our audience applauded.

"Good work, you two," Triumph said. "Materia, that was great battlefield awareness. Vista, you're getting better at redirecting close attacks. Not to mention your CQC skills still scare me a bit. I'm surprised Materia managed to avoid that last bit." I dug out my phone. 'My power cheats.' Dennis piped up, "Materia's overpowered, the sky is blue. News at 11!" I smiled, and Triumph gave him a smile, but said, "Okay, just for that, you're up next." He groaned, exaggerating every action as he got up and stumbled over, vaulting the railing separating the benches and gear racks from the sparring area, which I had changed to a random world which appeared to be a ruin-filled forest.

A small stream flowed past, and the ground was uneven with slabs of hieroglyphed limestone. I had found that I could project the sky if I changed the roof of an area, but it was kind of strange. I had no idea what would happen if someone flew up, since I wasn't affecting the floors above this, and there were no volunteers to test it. Maybe I could send people to my worlds, or would they be stopped by a ceiling, or something? Either way, it allowed dappled sunlight to filter through the canopy, adding to the effect, so I left it up for now.

Clockblocker donned his helmet, covering the last of his skin, and got into a basic fighting stance, one I could tell was focused on fast movement. This fight should be over if he got a hand on me, but I had ideas about that.

I began the moment they gave the signal, summoning a wall of fire with a sweep of my leg, then forming a series of balls of wind with swirling motions of my arms. I knew I would not have long, so I shoved my arms into two of them, moving the other two around my knees. It took a decent bit of my concentration to maintain them, but each ball should be nearly invisible, yet able to deflect Clock's strikes if I moved well.

I searched for Clock, only to have to leap out of the way as he made a wild lunge from the side. I'd let him get too close. I quickly tried to make some room, but he had a much longer stride than I, and was skinny where I was fat. I desperately tried to fling some more fire his way, but apparently, his costume was fire-resistant, because he shrugged off the one that hit him. I needed a new strategy, the wind armor was my last resort.

I stomped forward, raising my hands over my head in time with the second stomp. A wall of stone rose in front of me, and I immediately began punching chunks out of it to try and hit him, turning them to gravel to make sure it wasn't too painful, but sacrificing effectiveness to do so. I used a burst of wind under myself to help me leap away, then allowed the wind around my knees to dissipate; I needed the concentration. I pulled as much water from the stream as I could, forming a large mass, and floated it above myself, hidden in the shadow of the trees.

Clock saw me, and began sprinting towards me. I harried him as he dodged through the trees, growing roots to try and trip him again. He proceeded undaunted, and I decided to try my plan; I made a downward flowing motion with my arms, bringing one forward, then the other meeting it as a torrent of water flowed towards Clockblocker. I would douse him, then freeze the water, and cover him in a few slabs of rock until he submitted.

I didn't expect the giant leaf.

He ripped a huge elephant ear leaf off a plant as he saw the torrent, and used it like an umbrella to block most of it. I panicked, throwing some fire his way as I desperately retreated, and then some air slashes as those failed again. He dodged them, too, and jumped over a root I had grown. One more rock, which he blocked by freezing the leaf, and I had no room to run.

I ducked his lunge, trying to bring up some rock to lock him down or trip him, but he stumbled and recovered. A punch, and my wind gauntlet paid off as the punch was deflected. I tried pushing him with more wind, causing him to stumble back, but he kicked out, and I was too slow to dodge – and the training room was normal again, Dennis getting some water on the sidelines.

Note to self, don't enter CQC with a Striker 7.

Anyway, I was headed to the sidelines. Dennis had powers that might be really limited, but were so incredibly broken it made up for that. Really, making a leaf beat a rock was completely against the rules of rock-paper-scissors. Not to mention humiliating. I was beaten by a leaf. I beat the second-highest-rated cape on our team at her own game, only to lose to a leaf. I wasn't pouting, not even a little.

Tomorrow afternoon, I had to meet with the PR part of the PRT, finally discussing my debut and image, followed shortly after by meeting my new therapist. Wow. If there was ever a thought loaded with implications, it was that one. That's right, imaginary fourth wall, I don't see you, but I can think at you.

That thought, right there, would never, ever reach my therapist. I don't want to be a crazy person.


	12. Stasis 2-3

A/N: Short update today, mostly because the next few chapters deal with his PR meeting and stuff, and thus might need major rewrites come Wednesday, depending on the poll up on the SB thread. I reserve the right to choose freely from all names, but the poll tells me what's popular, so please feel free to vote or suggest names. I'm thinking a Monday and Friday update schedule, so expect the next chapter Friday.

Stasis 2.3

Aegis and Triumph went to face off, and I offered to supply a training zone, minus the roof this time – Aegis didn't want to risk flying through, not before it got tested. I chose another at random, allowing it to fill the space. The new locale looked like a patch of forest, but this time it was less jungle, and more magical poplar or aspen stand. Magical because motes of light glowed in the wide gaps between the trees, and the ground cover consisted of glowing purple heather and blue, crystalline rocks, with black shining dirt beneath. A whistle came from the audience.

I really needed to show them the sky-river one next.

Aegis and Triumph took positions, and with a thought, I began to grow a barrier of the blue crystalline material, thin enough to be mostly transparent, thick enough only a heavy impact would crack it. I might have an extra ability to intuit the abilities of materials I summoned, because I sure didn't know how else I would know that. Either way, it should make a decent splash shield while the two low-level brutes tangled.

A three count, and they were off. Triumph ate the distance with a powerful stride, while Aegis pulled a Superman haymaker to meet the charge. Triumph shouted to make Aegis flinch and miss, then grabbed him, spun, and threw him at the wall. He slammed into the wall, and Triumph closed the distance again in his commanding sprint. Aegis barely flinched as he hit, flying straight upward to get a height advantage.

Triumph shouted, louder this time. Aegis was able to dodge a direct hit, but Triumph's versatility lay in the area his blaster power had. It was hard to dodge, moving fast as rolling thunder, and hit a wide cone around it. Aegis still took a hit, and smacked a tree to boot, but managed to regain control. He went into a dive again, while Triumph was out of breath, and sent him flying into a tree as well. Triumph recovered in time to barely dodge Aegis' punch, and wasn't able to get away when the punch became a Brute headlock. Triumph tapped out, readjusting his lion helm as he stood up.

"Nice one, Carlos. Didn't even see the hold coming. Okay, who's next? Stalker, you want a go?" She stood, stretching. "Fine. Who do I get the honor of fighting with today?" She seemed a bit happier than usual today. Or maybe, this might be her normal? I doubted it. Something in her body language-

"Materia, you up for another round?" I nodded absently, lost in my thoughts, before realizing what I'd just volunteered for. Sighing, I pulled out my phone, and typed, 'Okay, you're a good jumper, right?' She grudgingly nodded. 'Let's try this one then.' I let go of the magical forest, reaching for the sky-mountains. As they filled the arena, I moved the glowing point off the surface of the sphere, searching blindly for a decent battlefield. Finally, I felt the right kind of terrain start to form.

The sparring room no longer looked enclosed. On all sides, you could see sky. The battlefield consisted of the edge of a flying mountain, complete with huge vines and tall trees. The rest of the battlefield was open air, spotted with floating chunks of rock, ranging in size from a basketball to a car. A floating river flowed straight through the center of the area, exiting through where the far wall had been, flowing off into the distance.

Stalker sounded like she wanted to purr in satisfaction as she overlooked the battlefield, but only said "Nice". The others stared for a minute, just taken aback from the view. Clock was the first to speak up, as I silently groaned.

"No fair! Until you came along, Vista and I had the local market cornered on bullshit powers." I responded in a shrug. Triumph spoke up next. "Can you grow a floor? I know it kills the vibe, but we still don't know what happens when we cross your areas of effect, and plummeting miles to the ground if we can cross seems like undue risk." Stalker shot a look at him, but didn't say anything on the subject. Instead, she walked closer to me and said, "Okay, pipsqueak." I bristled a little as she went on. "Tell you what. You manage to stay up for a minute, and we can unmask to each other, get that bullshit out of the way. Don't, and I expect you to stay out of my way from now on."

She had at least stepped close enough no one else had heard her, so I wasn't being drowned out by inane complaints about her attitude while I thought about it. I did want to get the unmasking finished up; it was awkward having to put on my mask every time I entered the room, and I barely had a mask. On the other hand, the last thing I wanted was another bully who wanted to walk all over me because I was an easy target. Could I defeat her? I didn't know. The only time I had seen her fight was a short clip of a cape fight on TV, but I hadn't paid much attention.

I was confident I could handle myself for a minute, though. I nodded. I would go all out, and see how long I lasted. We jumped into the ring. She shifted from flesh and bone to a sort of gaslike substance, and I immediately realized how screwed she was.

I could feel her, hear her. She was dischordant as heck, and I wouldn't dare try to use my powers directly on her, but she was loud to my power, her sound like a haunting organ to the normal air's pan flute. There was no way I wouldn't hear her coming. I smiled a little as I jumped, augmenting my leap with a cushion of air, focusing on the flow of the wind in my world. I almost wanted to go easy on her, with that little discovery, but she was really rude, and I hated a bully. I wanted her to acknowledge me, so I had to fight seriously.

I held up a hand, counted down from three, and it was on. She shifted to shadow, leaping up from the floating boulder she had been on to another, then whipped out her crossbows. I ran along the edge of the mountain like a fierce wind, ducking low to stop my eyes from tearing up, then jumped, kicking off a torso-sized rock to alter my path. I arced towards her as she fired her crossbows, the new bolts sliding into place as the payloads flew. I spun myself, wind forming a blunt wave that stopped and scattered the twin bolts before they hit me, then landed on the side of her boulder, holding myself on with air pressure. She ran again, copying my trick to redirect herself to a huge boulder near the center, next to the river.

Big mistake.

I jetted off the rock, using a combination of air and stone to rocket myself into the water in less than a second, and burst through the other side, now controlling a decent amount of water in my clothes and around myself. I adjusted my trajectory and spun, slamming into the mountain with a crash, shattering the ground as I landed in a crouch. She had shifted to shadow as I flew, unprepared for the missile impression I had done, so I heard the next two bolts separate from her main mass, and struck out with a whip of water as they stopped being shadow, breaking them in half.

I looked around for her. There, back on the center rock. I threw fire, and she dodged, another, dodged. She tried to hit me again, but I casually water-whipped the bolts out of the way. If I wanted to prove to her I could fight, I needed to draw her into close combat. I ran further down the edge of the mountain, and she growled, then followed. As soon as she landed, I ran back at her, enhancing my speed with the wind again. She clipped her crossbows to her belt in a practiced motion, and then I was there.

She lunged with a jab, and I dodged to the left, focusing on my boxing and tai chi, allowing myself to move with her, like a leaf on the wind. She followed with a left hook, which connected in a glancing blow, but I recovered and gave an augmented kick. She shifted to shadow, and was subsequently blown back when the wind from my kick blew through her form. I followed with a sweep of my hands, sending water through her body, and she staggered, reeling as her body reformed from the rent I had blown in it.

Huh, maybe that was the way to beat her. I tried again, drawing water in tendrils a few inches thick, giving myself the mental image of a squid or octopus, and proceeded to whip in a steady rhythm, my arms swaying to maintain the control. It was super difficult, but I was getting results. Each hit took a chunk out of her mist body, and her body language screamed anger, but she knew the moment she changed back I would have her. Any attempts to escape were cut off by a tendril or gust, and after a few more seconds of the assault, her body language shifted, and she raised her hands in surrender and changed back. I stopped, breathed a sigh at the relief of not having to maintain the tendrils anymore, and dried myself with a gust and a gesture, water pouring off me.

"Huh, you're not what I'd have pegged for a predator. Maybe we're not so different after all."

The words hit me like a truck. She thought I was like her? She thought I was a bullying, self-centered… wait. She was being… friendly now? What the heck? Had I hurt her brain or something when I hit her?

She pulled off her mask, holding out a hand. Contrary to her tone of voice, her face was hard, her eyes shining in silent anger. I quickly took off my mask. A deal was a deal. "I'm Sophia. Good to see someone on this team has a spine, even if it is the pipsqueak. Don't cross me, and I won't cross you, got it?" I nodded, numbly confused. This was surreal. She had some weird mindset where it was all us versus them, but somehow, I was an us now? I had just beaten her soundly. I expected her to leave me alone, not try to befriend me. I shook my head a little. Right, my name, her handshake.

I reached out and took her hand, shaking it. After we jumped back to the observation area, I reached for my phone and typed out a generic introduction. Everyone else was plainly sharing the same confusion I was with the sudden comradery Sophia was showing. Glad to know I wasn't the only one in the uncanny valley. I absently nodded at her acknowledgement of my name, and went to sit down on the benches. At a request, I shifted the world back to the ground level, allowing Stalker and Kid Win to fight in the beautiful locale.

Dennis and Missy sat down next to me, looking just as shell-shocked as I felt. Dennis, as always, was the first to speak. "Did you literally just beat some sense into Shadow Stalker?" I shook my head a little again, trying to clear the confusion she had caused with her sudden shifts in personality. She was back to being rude to Kid Win, so I guess it was just me. 'I honestly have no idea.' That didn't even cover how confused we were.

I groaned, started typing. 'Hey Clock, you remember that joke you made about my powers earlier?' "The news at 11 one? Yeah, why?" 'I think that was too on the nose.' 'Before I came, the sky was blue, the grass was green, and Stalker was mean.' I started silently shaking a little, a grin on my face as I typed. 'Then I showed up, and broke everything with my bullshit powers.' He and Vista listened quietly, nodding solemnly before it really hit them. They started chuckling, then we were all laughing. It wasn't the joke itself, it was just good to laugh about something, good to put aside our thoughts for a bit.

It was good to have friends.


	13. Stasis 2-4

Stasis 2.4

The next morning, I headed home from training with Miss Militia early. It was a school day, and I needed to get ready. Take a shower, get dressed, have a good balanced breakfast, and make sure I had my things in order. Find a post-it pad to write notes on, and keep a mechanical pencil on me, make sure my phone was charged up. The usual stuff.

I really didn't want to continue going to school, but homeschooling wasn't an option for us. Our house was nice, but the only reason we could afford it was thanks to the high parahuman crime rate in the city. Property values were low, but even with that we barely made ends meet most months. It was one of the upsides of Wards membership; my meager college fund would be going towards digging us out of debt, and my pay as a Ward would be our house's second income. Cutting our primary income to teach me wouldn't do anything but drive us into a financial pit.

Or so I had been informed when I asked about it.

We headed off to school, David being dropped off at the city bus stop, and Jordan and I directly to Lord Elementary. This was an involved process for my mom, taking fortitude, patience, and the will to make me walk Jordan to his classroom because the line for drop-off was too long and she needed to get to work.

The day began as many had before. I sat down at my assigned desk after dropping off my backpack at the back of the class, placing it on a hook near the teacher's desk so no one stole the hook and dropped my bag to the floor. My desk had been scribbled on while I was away; I got out an eraser and cleaned up the shiny patch, unhappy with the smudge. I got up to get a wet paper towel, and wiped the desk clean. Now, I wouldn't get in trouble if my teacher checked the desks or something.

I sat down, digging out the book I had brought to school with me, glancing up as other students filed in out of the halls. Most students went to the cafeteria before class; They served breakfast, and you could chat with your friends. I had breakfast, and no friends to speak of; besides, the cafeteria was crowded and loud, since it wasn't meant to house more than half the school at once comfortably.

There was Sarah, leader of the pretty girls; Zach, the big guy of the class; Other Michael (They always called me Mikey, and I hated it); Emily, also of the pretty girls; Geoffrey, the drummer in beginners' band – I knew I forgot to withdraw from something – and so on. Twenty-five kids, one teacher – Mr. Marcus Tallbert, a totem to the idea that names influence people. He was a 6'6" black man with a voice that boomed and a small, well cropped afro-goatee combo. A good guy, a smart teacher, but a little inattentive sometimes, too absorbed in his work.

When the bell rang, attendance was called. Announcements were made, and a few papers were passed out, including my schedule for the new tutoring program. I glanced it over. Recess was immediately following lunch, and I would leave immediately following that. Simple enough. Tons of little details to remember, but for now, I tucked it in my pocket. I pulled out my pad of post-its, setting them on the desk in case I'd need it.

The day slowly progressed, the clock advancing with the kind of boredom only a slug could comprehend. Each hour, we pulled another book out of our desks, put away the last subject's detritus, and began another boring lesson. I endured the little glances when I didn't try to answer questions, the whispers as I read the chapter of the English textbook in a few minutes, then pulled out my own book while they read. I paid attention to the teacher as he lectured, genuinely interested in the science lesson as other chatted in the darkened room. I sat, bored, as we covered division for kids, which involved remainders instead of fractions or decimals, which made it boring and somewhat inaccurate.

Finally, it was time for lunch. Yay cafeteria food. Nobody wanted to talk to me, and I couldn't talk to anyone anyway, so I ate in silence. Nobody wanted to sit near me, so I had the area of the table to myself. I didn't care. I ate my mystery meat and tortured potatoes (when you shred, dry, reconstitute, puree, and water them down, you need to get creative with the descriptive language), reading some more as I ignored the cafeteria around me.

Recess was the polar opposite of lunch. Teachers could hardly watch everyone, and it was a big playground. The few guys who actively bullied me did so by denying me enjoyment; they would always take up equipment before I got to it, fill up rosters on teams, and pretend I had done things like push them or call names, making me out to be the bully. I'd like to see them try that now. It'd be hilarious.

Today, they were distracted by a soccer game the fourth graders had organized, so I just sat on the swings and tried to see how high I could go. There was a rhythm to it, a rush, and it was only made better by my powers. The force of swinging, the little motions I had figured out to get some extra height, the slackness at the very pinnacle of each arc. My powers would have let me cheat, but what was the fun in that? I enjoyed the rhythm, the motion, the view, and the solitude.

Back, and forth; up, down, and up again. I could see the entire playground from up here, and then the ground rushed at me, then it was back to the sky. A meditative rhythm, aided by the rush of the air, the melody it wove as I rushed past it. I felt calm, more at peace, as I focused on pumping my legs to maintain my speed, instead of focusing on my day.

The whistle called the end of recess all too soon.

-Shangri-La-

I followed the instructions on the sheet I'd received. Gathered my things, ignoring the whispers again. I had been pulled from school before; stress leads to poor health, and too often I had gotten migraines, or mild fevers, et cetera, so it wasn't that uncommon. None of their business, anyway. I walked down the halls in a rush, meeting up with the bus group in the cafeteria, and a few minutes later, the assorted group of students filed into the waiting bus.

Every now and then the bus would stop, letting out another group of students. Finally, it made its way downtown, and Missy and I stood up along with a few other students to exit the bus. We were headed for a tutoring center a few blocks down from the PRT building, far enough away nobody really connected it to the Wards. We entered, were separated out, and I was introduced to my assigned tutor, a tall, redheaded young woman named Melanie Davis. After the introduction, I was escorted by Melanie out the back door, where Missy was waiting.

"Hey there. Follow me, I'll show you our side entrance." I nodded, and we walked in the general direction of the HQ. I pulled out my phone, but she shook her head. Apparently, we shouldn't talk much on the way. I was cool with that. A few minutes walking later, we ducked into an alley, and she looked around, making sure nobody was watching. We walked up to a door facing the alley, ignoring the buzzer next to it. Instead, Missy tapped shave-and-a-haircut, and a little keypad popped out. Typing a code in, the door opened, and we stepped into the stairwell.

I had already typed it out. 'That was some major cloak-and-dagger stuff right there. I love it!' She laughed a bit. "It gets to be normal after a while, but yeah, I like being in a spy movie sometimes. C'mon, let's go." She gestured to the down stairs. I dutifully began the descent, going down three floors before we were greeted with a hallway.

Phew. I really wish I wasn't overweight.

We walked casually down the hall, crossing the length of the building above us to reach the PRT building itself. The hallway was deceptively plain, only broken up by occasional domes in the ceiling that my spy-movie-logic-focused mind assumed were laser turrets, although they were probably foam, and two signs at the end of the long hall, labeled 'Elevator' and 'Emergency'. We went to the elevator, and took it down to the floor the Wards HQ was on. I waved goodbye as she headed to the main room, nodding as she wished me luck with the PR guys.

I needed all the luck I could get.

-Shangri-La-

The interior of the aboveground PRT building was your average office interior from the late 90s; boring, soul-crushingly so, with white tile, white walls, white ceilings; those little keycode door handles on every other doorknob, and almost no identifying features beyond that. Luckily, I was a kid, so of course some poor sap had to escort me everywhere. Thus, it took no time at all to find the PR department's main office. No nameplate on the door, but I could hear murmurs of conversation inside. I knocked.

"Enter, please," came one of the voices, the other finishing his thought as I reached for the knob. The room contained two men, who were complete opposites of each other. The first was tall, skinny, dark-skinned, and had a bald head and a fancy, close-cut beard with a small swirl design near the back of the jaw; he was dressed in business casual, a blue button-down and tie with black slacks.

The other guy just looked odd.

Overweight, square glasses, a skater cut; he had a green t-shirt on that said 'Got Slurm?' on it, paired with corduroys in grey. His overall appearance was that of a man in desperate need of a wardrobe change. He might have been able to get away with the look as a teen, but the man must be in his late thirties at least.

They both motioned to the chair, glancing at each other as they did so. It was like watching Bugs and Daffy. The well-dressed one spoke first after we all had been seated.

"Hello, Michael. I'm Adrian Miles, head of the PR department for the PRT East-Northeast, and this is the national head of Public Relations, Glenn Chambers. Mr. Chambers is a very busy man, but your particular circumstances have led those in charge to ask for his personal touch with your cape persona." I was a bit shocked. Bad Clothes Man was in charge of PR? How did that measure up?

Glenn spoke, and I started to understand a little. The man could __talk.__ "So, down to brass tacks. Reports say you have an Idea for a name. 'Materia.' I like the direction you took your research, but I think you're selling your powers short. Prima materia is a concept mainly focused on the elemental control you have, but leaves out your highest-ranking power, your reality manipulation, almost entirely."

"The powers that be have you down as a Shaker 12, Blaster 7, and Thinker 4, with subranks in Mover and Striker. As I understand it, ratings above 9 are reserved for powers that are so far beyond others of that classification that they are unique. Other holders of 12 ratings include Scion and a few of the S-class threats, which I'm sure they're grateful you are not. You might be the strongest cape in the Wards, period, and probably in much of the Protectorate as well. Not in raw destructive potential, but in sheer versatility."

"Normally, extremely young capes will be given names that capture their innocence, but you are too powerful for that. Rarely do we get a chance to craft a cape's public perception so cleanly; many Wards start as independents, making a name for themselves before joining. I will not patronize you; the transcripts of the power testing show a smart young man behind your prepubescent face. Therefore, I hope you understand when I say this:"

"Materia will not be your cape name."

A/N: The poll was tied. This was not an easy decision, please put away the pitchforks.


	14. Stasis 2-5

A/N: I swear, action is coming. Just not yet.

Stasis 2.5

"Materia will not be your cape name."

I was a bit sad, at that. I had spent some time picking it out, and while I hadn't gone out using it yet, it already felt somewhat familiar to me. All the Wards called me by that name when I had my mask on, and I had found a cool Aleph game series that referenced the concept, although I couldn't afford to get the console to play it. Still, I had been warned that the PR team would have final say on my image, and that included my name, I guess. Besides, I had only had it a few days, and as attached as I was to it, I could stand to at least hear him out. Speaking of which, Glenn continued talking.

"Don't take that the wrong way; it's not a bad name by any means, and I can see the train of thought that went into it. Many cultures had similar traditions involving elements, and prima materia is at the core of the European traditions. That being said…" he paused, "It isn't a good fit for your powers, and while it's a good name, it sounds too much like a tinker name, and you have to look up what it means after adding 'prima' to it, just to find out some vague alchemic history. Alchemic symbols are good-looking for a costume, but again, they lend themselves more towards a tinker or chemical user, not an absurdly powerful shaker/blaster."

"I envision your fighting style and power, and I see less an alchemic master, searching for ways to bend the elements to your will through wit, and more a demigod guarding a sacred grove, or a young monk defending a temple; an archetypal figure, the childlike guardian who wields immense elemental power. The fact that your powers rely on martial arts helps this image, as does your request that a staff or rod be part of your standard equipment. When people say your name, I want it to call those images to mind. We need something esoteric, but recognizable, based in far eastern cultures. We also need the name to be catchy, easy to attach a symbol to, easy to recognize."

I nodded, thinking about it. I didn't know nearly as much about the mythology of the CUI or India, and Japan was half underwater last I heard. I would have to research them more. The only thing I had relating to that was this one new-age coloring thing my dad had sent me last birthday; he was really into Zen and stuff. What were those things called again? The really ornate circles, with lots of symbolism? I wish I had cared about coloring enough to use more than one or two sheets now. They were interesting to look at when I did them justice, even if they were tedious to do.

Glenn continued, somewhat oblivious to my thinking face. "Adrian and I were discussing a few ideas before you came in. Your powers are too varied for most mythical figures, and besides, we tend to name big threats after gods, so that might be for the best. 'Chaos' fits the concept if an origin to the elements and worlds, but is far too villainous-sounding; Demiurge has unfortunate connotations, even if the original concept was almost perfect." I had no idea what that was, so okay.

"Ziggurat, Pyramid, taken; Pagoda is not currently taken; I'll add it to the list. More esoteric concepts like Chakra, Sephirot, and Chi, are taken too. Axis Mundi isn't taken, and would be a great fit for your shaker powers; it literally means 'center of the world', though, so it might sound a bit arrogant, and while it's a prevalent concept in society, few people know the name of said concept. Zen might be good for recognition, but there are always problems naming yourself after a religion. Mandala…"

That was it! The circle things were mandala! I nodded fervently. He stopped, smiled. "Ah. Good choice, actually. I didn't think too much about it while I was crafting this list, but I can see how that would work with your image quite well." Adrian looked a little confused. "How do decorative circles have anything to do with his power? They're just Hindu religious symbols, right?" Glenn shot him an incredulous look.

"Mr. Miles, please keep the meaning of the concept in mind before protesting! Mandala are not simply religious symbols; they are symbolic, flat representations of various conceptions of the universe. They are a hugely varied and respected art form, and more importantly for this discussion, they are a very good choice. Mandala are often divided into four sections, each symbolizing a different aspect of the universe, with a central point around which the universe unfolds."

He drew an imaginary diagram on the surface of the desk as he continued. "In much the same way, Michael here has control of four elements, and unfolds dream realities around himself. The logo practically makes itself, and unlike some of the other names we suggested, it's fairly easy to search up a mandala and get a basic idea what it is without slogging through a wiki page. Mandala are used in meditation exercises, and in some martial arts, and have both a recognizable imagery and a deeper, more powerful meaning behind them. I can't believe I didn't notice the symbolism before, we could have saved twenty minutes of talking!"

Adrian protested, "How do you even know all of that off the top of your head?" "It's my job to know. I'm the head of Public Relations for an international organization, knowing lots of random facts about various cultural symbols is just one facet of my duties. Maybe you should do some learning yourself," Glenn said with a slight edge to his voice. Adrian looked sufficiently cowed, but said, "Okay, Glenn. If that's settled, let's move on to basic costume design. We only have an hour forty to iron out the details and get measurements and so on." Glenn nodded, snapping back to serious mode.

Oh boy, here we go.

"Normally, we have our younger capes in outfits designed to be bright, to be happy. Unlike the name, I think we could make bright colors work on you. Your powers hardly lend themselves to stealth, after all. We need some armor and coverage, but it needs to be breathable and agility-based to allow freedom of movement. Most importantly, it must fit the theme. Any ideas, Adrian?"

"How about a modified gi, with Kevlar undersuit and a hood and cloth mask? I'm thinking golden yellow, with orange undersuit and metal-banded, sleek gauntlets and boots." Glenn put a hand to his chin. "I can see it, but it seems a bit generic. The gi can stay, and the gauntlet/boot combo, but let's work on image."

An idea struck me. Quickly typing before they could get too far ahead, the phone said 'Wait'. They stopped and looked at me. 'Clock's animated panels.' 'Could we do that with a mandala?'

"Yes, I love it!" Glenn exclaimed. "It'd make it more expensive to maintain, but it gives a unique appearance to the costume, and we can change the image to fit the occasion! So, armor panels of slowly shifting mandala. We probably need to scrap the gi, but we gain a distinct image boost. Okay, your powers require flexibility, so how about a more form-fitting costume based off of ceremonial armor? I'm thinking a sleek, open-sided half-chestplate, with a segmented build for added flexibility. High shoulders, too, with panels on the upper arms and around the forearms and hands. Minimal armor below the belt; shin guards, maybe some sleek hard storage panels in the small of the back and outside of the thigh."

Adrian had picked up a sketch pad and drawn up a rough idea of the armor. It looked okay, but I would need to ask for a few features to be added. Also, there was a distinct lack of a mask, and I literally pointed that out on the page. "Ah, yes. The ever-important mask. Let's see here… so far, we have armor that looks much like a cut-down, slimmed-out military uniform. A helmet might be too unwieldy in combat, don't you think?" I nodded, imagining a power rangers helmet, how bulky they were.

"Right. Since you can't talk, we should focus on the eyes being uncovered. That tends to make you a more trusted figure. How about a hard face mask?" I shook my head, typed, 'May I demonstrate a power?' They nodded, confused. I reached for the fire simmering in my stomach, letting it hit my lungs. I inhaled, and when I slowly exhaled, a burst of fire came out of my pursed lips in a small jet. I followed up with a second breath, this time blowing wind. Their looks of surprise told me I got my point across. I needed my mouth free, even if I couldn't talk.

"Well, that is somewhat unfortunate. I really hoped we could go with that," Glenn said. Adrian spoke up. "Actually Glenn, we might be able to. All we need is the ability to open the mask with a switch or gesture, and to make it temperature resistant. A chin switch would do it, and the mask would still be plenty to cover his identity, especially if we added a head covering." "Well, Michael, do you think that might work?" I nodded. It might be awkward, but if nothing else, the added protection to my mouth might be good in a fight.

After that, the meeting devolved into much more trivial details. My costume was changed from gold to green, then finally mixed reds, with accents of gold and silver; the face mask and armor went through several alterations; a few features were discussed, including a sign language to speech translator and text display on the animated panels, which was eventually settled on for the forearm panels only due to image concerns and control difficulty. I even managed to convince them to let me have a small pop-out keyboard in the left forearm, so I could report in and stuff. Plus, an extendable staff with a few cool features built in.

Unfortunately, the tech would come at a cost; it would probably take a week to complete the suit, longer for the staff, and I might need to get them maintained by a tinker from time to time. Also, if I wrecked the suit beyond repair, I might be benched awhile, but then again, I'd probably have worse things to worry about if that happened. I would still have a spare made, of course, but punishment is punishment.

Next came measurements, an embarrassing process involving stripping to my underwear and posing a bit for cameras. Thank God, they were going straight to a machine, and that the booth had no windows. I didn't want anyone to see my flab.

Last came merchandizing. Yes, the Wards did in fact need money to run, and I was a member of their target demographic. Action figures were some ways off, but various designs for clothes were discussed, and I might get some mugs or a poster or two made once my costume was finished. Overall, it was a whole bunch of somewhat boring stuff, but I was glad to be able to contribute here and there. I got the feeling not every hero got this kind of input; how else do you explain the girl's underwear with Armsmaster's symbol on it that I saw in the gift shop? He was a guy, not a girl; it should have Battery, or Miss Militia on it.

Come to think of it, Adrian probably signed off on that. That didn't bode too well for my PR future.

Anyway, it was time to go. I got up, offered a hand to Glenn, waved to Adrian, and went back out to my escort.

It was time to get some therapy.


	15. Stasis 2-PRT

Stasis

 _Saturday, November 27_ _th_

Director Emily Piggot was sitting in her office, trying to enjoy the last of a salad she had gotten for lunch, looking over the paperwork she would need to fill out once she was done. There were no thoughts of procrastination; even if paperwork wasn't the kind of enemy she had once trained for, it was just about the only kind she could still defeat.

Her legs twitched in pain. She grimaced, finishing the last bite of salad. Back to paperwork.

No sooner had she started on the third page of the form when her phone rang. It had different tones for different callers, and the one ringing right now was not one you could ignore and call back after. Sighing, then wincing at the pain again, she pressed a button on the phone, turning to her computer screen as she did so. It flickered over to the video call, and she was greeted with a familiar face.

"Hello, Chief Director. To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked, genuinely curious. It wasn't every day Director Costa-Brown called you without an appointment or warning. Most times that happened, it was bad, but this week had been fairly calm.

"Good afternoon, Emily. I'm sorry about calling unannounced, but I noticed a probable misprint in a briefing, and thought it might be good to confirm, in case it isn't. The part of the briefing in question was going over the power testing for a new Ward up there."

"You mean Michael Vanderbilt?"

"Yes. It appears the power tests rated him a rather absurd Shaker rating, a 12 on the threat scale. I just wanted you to confirm if this is true or not."

Emily blanched. She hadn't seen the report yet. "One moment, Director." She rifled through the paperwork for today until she found the sheaf in question. Permission to Post Detailed Testing to File 'Materia'. It included a long, detailed account of every step in the testing, and Emily's hands shook a little upon reading the fine detail. No Manton limit. Powers tied to emotional state. Steadily growing control radius. Full control of all terrain in said radius, and tactile sense of all objects affected by it. Not projection-based, things could be brought back from the radius. Similar powers to all 3 Endbringers, and a combat learning thinker power to boot.

She shakily responded. "It- it's correct. Maybe even lowballing them. I wasn't yet aware of this, or I would have been calling _you_."

Rebecca nodded curtly. "Get that form signed off. I'm going to make some calls. This will need to be handled carefully. Make damn sure the boy gets good therapy, and don't talk down to him. I don't want someone so willing to become a hero to be driven away, especially when staying in one place for a week could make them an S-Class threat if they became hostile. Do you _understand_ , Emily?"

She could only nod, her mouth dry. A wince, as the wounds from Ellisburg voiced their opinion. Here was a cape who could make _that fucker_ look tame, and the only thing that stood in his way was his own morals and sense of good. Something shifted in Emily at that thought. She would damn well keep that kid sane, or she would sign his kill order herself. She hoped, prayed for the former, but she would never let a city become another Ellisburg.

Never again.

-Shangri-La-

 _Sunday, November 28_ _th_

Coil was unhappy/ Thomas was hard at work.

Almost a week had passed since he became aware of Michael Vanderbilt, and his plans concerning him had all failed.

The boy was too young for his plans for a villain team; an eight-year-old would not mesh with the Lindt girl, for one. However, such a young boy would have been putty in his hands, made into a perfect pawn, if he was just given the right… persuasion.

It was paltry work for his men to track him from the PRT to his house. When the boy went to the library alone later that day, he figured it was the perfect time to strike. He had a squad mobilize in one reality, only to find themselves outrun on foot by an overweight child, unable to grab him as he had dodged around them as if they were bumbling idiots, instead of the best mercenaries Coil could afford. He had collapsed that reality. Keeping the element of surprise was essential.

That evening, he had arranged for them to break in during Thanksgiving dinner. They would taser the family, grab the child, and be gone.

His men had been burned, frozen in place, or knocked unconscious, and one unfortunate had been assaulted by a series of bamboo shoots until he couldn't cry for help anymore over the comms. Again, he closed the timeline. Perhaps tomorrow.

He had waited for power testing to finish, to find out the child's limits. What little he was able to glean from the sparse summary of the tests had been illuminating, with the main issue of his attempts becoming clear; obviously, every attempt had been in an area he had been in for some time. He was using his prodigious shaker powers to stop the attempts, he was sure. He wanted the boy even more, now; he would make the base nigh-impregnable if he could be controlled, and perhaps more given time.

The next day, he had a nondescript black SUV full of men in full riot gear on the road, tailing the target. In one reality, as they pulled up to the light together, the men came storming out, shooting the mother and taking the kid out of the car by force-

The last thing he had heard from that patrol was seven and a half little words. "Back off! Something's wrong with him! Oh shi- "

So very frustrating.

But today would be the day.

He would go himself, to collect the boy directly, an opening move for his Coil persona. / He would remain safe at the PRT, because contingencies.

He walked into the church parking lot. / He filled out more paperwork.

His men flanked him.

He raised the taser, firing moments before the men behind him opened fire on the family.

The boy shuddered as the taser struck his lower back, and turned in time to see his family die around him.

Thomas switched to a new document.

The boy grasped at the wires, gritting his teeth, twitching, slowly turning as other people in the lot began to scream.

A single tear ran down the boy's face as his eyes rolled into his head and he began to fall limp.

Coil smiled.

Then he was standing in midair, a mile up, an impossible view below him, his men's yells and screams growing fainter as they fell. The boy was hovering in front of him, riding a tornado, eyes glowing brightly. The taser had been ripped from his hands and cast away by the wind; he was helpless to resist. / Thomas almost closed the timeline, but stopped. There was data to gather.

Then the boy - who by all accounts couldn't speak - spoke one word, in a voice that could not possibly have come from the child's mouth; a voice too resonant and layered and _wrong_ to be carried by just air; one that sounded like a legion of voices following the same intonation, but not necessarily the same language, at once. _It_ said one awful, terrible word as if it was the only truth in the world:

 ** _[No.]_**

Then Coil was cast down from the skies. / Thomas shuddered as he closed the timeline.

That was… unsettling.

Maybe he didn't need a base guardian after all. Laser sharks had a certain appeal. Besides, the boy was joining the Wards soon, so if all went well, he would have him eventually. All he had to do was bide his time before he struck.

Thomas opened another timeline.

-Shangri-La-

 _Monday, November 29_ _th_

Jessica had seen many things in her tenure as a cape psychologist and therapist. She had seen monsters acting like people, people thinking they were monsters, monstrous bodies with good people inside, and people who didn't realize they might be monsters from the choices they made.

She'd been scheduled to take on the Wards in Brockton Bay a few days ago, and so far, she was glad to be called in. These kids all needed help, and she was happy to give it to them.

She wasn't fazed in the slightest by a little kid entering the room. She smiled, offered a hand, and asked for his name. She was unfazed when he pulled out a phone and typed, nor when a moment later the robotic text-to-speech program said 'Michael'. She had seen worse, sat through things infinitely more tedious than this would be.

"Nice to meet you Michael. I'm Jessica, Jessica Yamada." The boy smiled, typed. She waited patiently. 'Nice to meet you too.'

She asked one of the basic questions, a conversation starter. "So, how are you?"

Typing.

'Okay, I guess. Made it through a week with powers.'

A long pause, an intake of breath, a sigh. He was probably making a choice, and preparing himself for it. She waited.

Typing.

'I feel like I'm just faking everything. Going through the motions.'

Typing.

'Like every interaction is a lie, even if I'm telling the truth.'

Typing.

'Because I'm not telling them about all of it. I can't.'

She waited a moment for him to continue. He didn't continue, so she said, "You can't tell them because of some issue, or can't express it?'

'Yes.'

"Could you explain it given the time to? I'm a good listener, and I can be here as late as you need; you're my last appointment." She might have to leave if the Asylum had an emergency, but they were often handled by onsite personnel, and her current patient always took priority. Besides, she had already read the files transferred from his last therapist, and found them wanting. Jessica needed more information if she was going to help him.

He nodded. He sat for almost five minutes, thinking. Jessica sat patiently, understanding smile on her face. It was a sort of relief, having a new patient who actually wanted help, who didn't need to be coaxed into it.

Ah, now he was typing.

'It's hard to put into words.'

Typing.

'It always has been.'

Typing, longer this time.

'How do I explain why I did it, instead of just describing what I did?'

A sigh, a silent decision, more typing.

'Last Saturday, I tried to take my own life.'

Typing.

And so, she listened. She heard the boy's story, told through halting sentences with no emotion and a clinical detachment.

He wanted companionship, an equal. His whole life had the theme; it was easy to spot right off the bat. Unfortunately, Michael didn't seem to be able to relate to other kids. He looked for friends, but couldn't make a connection. Rather than accept his lot, be defined by it, he had tried to reach out anyway, and was shunned or ignored again and again. He had tried to find somebody who could understand him, and failed. Tried to explain his feelings, but couldn't. He had threatened to end his own life just to get someone to pay real attention to him.

She listened to him far into the night. He spoke of his other problems, the little, insignificant problems he had that sapped his mind's potential. How he was so easily distracted. How useless he felt when he could ace a test, but forget to do his homework, or even to check the things that reminded him to do it. How he would find a subject he liked, and become so obsessed gathering information on it that he often accidentally neglected even the things he loved, until he realized his mistake. How it ached when he let his imagination run wild, but the more he tried to find the words to write the thoughts down, the more they left him.

He showed her a glimpse of his worlds, and explained how they reminded him each day of how easily he could escape it all. He talked about his family's problems, his brothers as intelligent as he, his loving mother who was quietly broken, all of them plagued by their demons. His last therapist, who put shame on the whole profession with her blatant phoning it in. His revelations over the summer, his loss of innocence over the course of a week of breakdowns at the end of the previous school year, the grim reality he saw in everything.

She felt like she could begin to understand him. He was set apart, he was lonely, and he was ignored. Introverted, but less because it had come naturally and more because he didn't have a way to relate. From how he described his interactions at school, the 8-year-old sitting across from her knew more about relating to adults than to children his own age; from his description of home life, she could see his family cared for him deeply, but worried Michael didn't always see it.

Hours later, but far too soon, he had run out of things he could find words for. All that he had left were concepts and no way to translate them. Six years of conscious thought is barely anything to an adult, so Jessica understood that he had little to say, understood that he had put his whole life on the table, and got that his stray thoughts might hide the real problems he needed to fix.

Dean had told her about the emotions he had seen. Michael was among the most depressed people Dean had ever seen, painful to look at. Jessica knew why.

How can you not be depressed when your entire life has been based on isolation? Defined by a failure to be recognized and understood?

When, from the moment he had realized other people had different experiences, he had been alone in that revelation for months? When he had lost what few people had known him before that moment, and was dropped, unprepared, into a world of people he didn't know how to talk to? When he had had nothing but more misery and loneliness visit him ever since? Depression is only normal. Depression was a default state of mind for Michael, just a part of his thoughts that had been there for most of his conscious memory.

It surprised her it had taken him till third grade to crack. She was somewhat surprised that she would ever think that, but it was true.

But there was hope, and hope could be nourished.

She would be filing for permanent assignment to Michael, assuming he wanted her to. Michael could not do this for every new counselor, every month. It might break him. Probably not make him suicidal; he had strong feelings on that front; but it might make him apathic. Make him numb.

Hope had to be nurtured. It was like a tiny plant, one bad rainstorm and it could be damaged, or die from overwatering, or have the dirt around its roots washed away. But if you kept it out of the storms, watered and fed it, and put it in a nook to catch the sun, pretty soon your hope would be big, and strong, and blooming. You just had to care for it.

Jessica Yamada began to talk.


	16. Stasis 2-6

Stasis 2.6

Wednesday morning. Hump day. The first half was over, the next half was coming. Things to look forward to, like tonight's sign language training, and things I just wanted to get through, like school.

So, of course, I would have to do the latter to make it to the former.

It started the same as every other day. Classroom, reading, ignoring the jabs and comments. Math, then English.

Then came Music class.

My teachers had all been informed that I was mute, so it wasn't that I got in trouble for not participating. No, the problem came when Sarah noticed my silence.

"Miss Lawrence? Michael's not singing!" She was trying to get me in trouble; of course she was. I couldn't even enjoy listening to music without someone ruining it.

"Michael is excused from singing, obviously."

Oh no.

"Why do we have to sing and he doesn't?'

I shook my head, but Miss Lawrence didn't see it.

"Stop teasing him, Sarah. You know he lost his voice."

Silence.

No, they didn't.

S-word.

"What?" "When?" "How?" A cacophony of questions at once. Looks of triumph, of scorn, of pity, of confusion, and of discomfort. Miss Lawrence was frozen, realizing just how much she had screwed up. The classroom was in utter chaos for a minute or two before she gained control, steering us back to the song we were learning. I just sat in disbelief.

They actually hadn't even noticed. I had been gone a week (Thanksgiving week, but still), been in class three days, and they had never noticed the fact I hadn't said a word. It hadn't been announced, but I figured that at least some of them had heard. Jordan had told his entire first-grade class, and rumors got around. All the bullying since I returned had been without them even realizing I couldn't talk back, and I honestly didn't know whether them knowing would make things better or worse.

I needed a minute. I got up and took the restroom pass, ignoring the eyes on me as I strode out of the room.

Seating myself in a stall, I just took a minute to deal with this whole messed up situation. This wasn't the end of the world; it would have gotten out eventually, I just figured it already had. Just like Miss Lawrence. This wasn't her fault. This was nobody's fault, because nothing was wrong. So why do I still feel upset that they know?

Why couldn't I just get past this little speedbump?

-Shangri-La-

Nobody bothered me the rest of the day, and it was amazing.

Hah, no. First thing in lunch was an offhand comment about Sarah and me 'talking it out.' Then Ethan decided it'd be funny to take my book and pretend he was reading the back while losing my page. At least people were looking a bit uncomfortable when they looked my way. That'd help me.

Recess was worse. The ones still in on it organized a game of Marco Polo, and at some point, someone got a smart idea and called me Volume. Get it? Chubby kid who's mute? So clever. I took grim satisfaction every time someone was stupid enough to need it explained to them. By the time recess ended, I was thoroughly done with today.

But wait! I had sign language class today! I might finally be able to communicate in something closer to real time! So, I bolstered my mood, sucked it up, and headed for the tutoring center.

I got to the room and shook hands with my instructor, a Mr. Timothy Davis. He started off with a short side project, a possible short-term solution.

"Many mute people are that way through either deafness or tongue injury. However, for those with nerve or vocal cord damage, we can often train them to be able to 'talk' in what amounts to a breathy whisper that doesn't actually use throat muscles. It's not your old voice, but it's a good skill to have, and much easier to understand that tap codes or sign language."

It sounded easy enough. I tried it out, trying to say 'testing', but it felt wrong. Mr. Davis said, "Not so fast. The trick to making it audible is to basically sigh while mouthing words. _Liike thiiss,"_ he said, letting it out as a breathy hiss. I tried again.

" _Tuffuuh."_ That wasn't right. "S _uhtpht. Muhtfah. Thuhtah!"_ What was wrong? I could get the cadence, but 'Testing' wouldn't happen. I just wanted to be able to talk again. Why couldn't I have that?

Mr. Davis looked understanding. "Ah, that is unfortunate. Your muteness might be caused by brain injury; your speech centers might be damaged. I would recommend you get your mother to schedule an MRI, they might be able to help you with modern medicine."

I'd do one better. I pulled out my phone and asked for a minute outside. I texted Hannah.

-Shangri-La-

They had been able to work me in after my session. Perks of having a team of paid cape nerds ready to test new stuff, and an onsite state-of-the-art hospital at the HQ.

So, I was strapped to a table, my head full of mildly radioactive material, murmuring gibberish; a giant magnet hummed ominously in the walls of the tube they were sliding my head into, while guys in lab coats watched from the control panels. I found out a few things myself, while I was in that infernal machine; one, MRIs belong in a mad scientist's lab, and two, I could sort of feel something in the machine with my power. The latter was distracting enough they had to redo the scan, vowing to get back to the feeling momentarily. Thus began the infinite tunnel of power testing for the afternoon.

By the time I headed off to the Rig, I had learned like five different tidbits of information on my powers.

Things that went through walls I projected my powers onto went to my world while it was active, but often ended up halfway in a wall when the power ended and reality reasserted itself; basically, if I wanted to use my power to go through walls, I needed to make sure nothing was intersecting said walls when I stopped. I got a Stranger subrating from it though; the object or person could move undetected past the barrier, up to the edge of my current usable area, then reappear when I stopped my power. Overall, really dangerous, but also really useful.

I could feel strong electrical currents in a way that reminded me of my thermokinesis, but while it followed that I should be able to generate electricity, I couldn't figure it out. Only idea on that front was to get myself electrocuted, and I'd rather not. Did it once as a kid, not fun. Maybe if I fought an electricity-based cape I'd find out, but until then, no thanks. I did find out I could also douse flames with my powers, after an accidental explosion from one attempt.

The reason I came here to begin with had proved disappointing, however. I had no overt damage to my brain structure, but something was obviously not working. I was treated to a whole bunch of very specific neurological know-how. Basically, I couldn't remember how to mouth words, and probably couldn't learn to again either. I could still whistle, cluck, and other basic fine motor movements, but not vocal communication. I would probably never talk again.

I hated my power sometimes. I really did.

Just to top off everything, my mom texted me as I was flown up to the Rig. The church and my school had finished checking records; none of their recordings that involved me were of decent quality or length. Odds were good I would never get my old voice back.

I was tired. Tired of all the stupid little things the day had brought. Frustrated by my inability to do anything but accept it all. I needed to hit something.

Good thing I was heading to the Rig. Time for a nice, relaxing training session.

A/N: Welcome to the depths of depression, we hope you never acknowledge your stay.


	17. Stasis 2-7

Stasis 2.7

Sunday, after church, I was dropped off at the PRT.

Today, I was publicly debuting as a Ward. I had thought I was ready, but now, I was all nerves. A part of me had the thought that, at the very least, I wouldn't have to speak. I told that part to stop being funny; it was still going to be terrifying.

But first, good news. My costume was finished! But, I had to sit through a briefing on its functions before I could put it on. But the briefing was by Armsmaster. Silver linings.

So, at the moment, I was stressing out over going out in a few hours while trying to pay attention to a briefing about awesome things I could do once I got through today.

"… and this switch can be toggled by pressing your tongue against your upper lip, just above your right canine. It toggles the keyboard fitted into the armor on the underside of your left forearm, and turns the holo-panel above it from the usual display to a small screen. Options on the screen include text display, text to speech, to comms, and to loudspeaker, as well as backups for most mask functions. You may also program a few short phrases to play with certain gestures, although this feature is disabled while in sign-language translation mode…" and so on.

It had a bunch of cool features, and only needed 10 minutes charging a day, with enough battery for two days if necessary. Not to mention, it looked really cool. The costume consisted of a dark red-and-black undersuit with silver trim, which I had been informed was fairly durable, small arms fire proof, actual fire proof and waterproof, and also contained the battery and contacts for all the armor pieces that needed power, as well as the gesture sensors.

The armor pieces were cherry red with gold trim, and most of them featured holo-panels of slowly rotating mandalas from an album on a microSD in the left forearm. They consisted of modular, interlocking halves coming together around the suit at the forearms, around the chest, and on the feet, and snap-on panels on the upper arms, knees, calves, thighs, groin, and onto the gloves to make half-gauntlets.

The mask was a smooth affair that reached from ear to ear, covering my mouth and nose and attaching to the bodysuit with hardened contacts at the neck. It was the main switchboard for my suit's functions, although the keyboard could be a redundant control if needed. As for looks, it was a gradient from the dark red of the bodysuit neck to the bright cherry red of my armor panels, lined with gold along the edge and down the middle, where the section covering my mouth could retract for breath attacks.

The full set looked like a sleek, cut-down, futuristic, and red dynastic Chinese military armor, mixed with a ninja mask; the only part that wasn't form-fitting was the shoulders, which swept out and slightly up, staying out of the way. They offset this slender look with a few formal attire attachments, mostly a piece of cloth that turned the half-chestplate into more of a short unbelted ghi with a gold-embroidered slit down the front, which came down to just above my knees at its lowest points. I actually liked it more with that on, but I would have to keep it nice, so no fighting in it. Either way, it was quite a sight, and I was under the distinct impression that they wanted me to be a big deal right out of the gate. Why else would they kit me out with so many features?

That thought actually helped with the nerves a little.

A half-hour of interesting tidbits interspersed with boring how-to's later, I was finally allowed to don the set and try it for myself. The fit was perfect. The bodysuit was easy to get into, with a zipper down the back, padded so I couldn't feel it much inside the suit. The armor took a bit to put on, but mostly just because there were so many pieces. The lower back was the hardest part; it had a segmented spine protector that led to a lower back compartment, and needed to snap onto the robust zipper of the bodysuit in several places. I could go without it for non-formal wear, but I might miss the storage.

The hassle was worth it.

I looked awesome.

I worked through the checks like I had been instructed, pressing switches with my tongue and chin to activate and deactivate various functions. Finally, I pressed the holo-panel activation switch. A decent portion of my armor flashed white before turning to various slowly rotating mandala on a red background. They didn't actually emit light, but unlike those old e-paper displays, it was full color and had depth to it. The symbols themselves were varied, ranging from large, ornate designs that told entire myths at once to refined glyphs surrounding a quartered circle.

In the middle of my chest, one design stood stationary; my new logo. Stylized images of the four elements were incorporated into a circular landscape; a mountain range, a volcano, a river, and a swirl of wind on a plain; in the center, a red figure that matched my armored silhouette, complete with gold and silver trim. Amazing artwork, easy to simplify, and gave an idea of my power in a creative way.

Glenn may dress weird, but boy did he deserve his job.

Anyway, the tech worked perfectly, the suit only took a few minutes to put on, and I cut a pretty cool figure. It was slimming, made me look older than I was. I puffed out my chest a little as I looked in the mirror. I could do this. I could go out there and be Mandala the hero. I would do great at the reveal later.

After a few more warnings from the technician about various small maintenance, I was allowed to leave. I headed for the Wards HQ. Not everyone would be there, but I figured Missy might, and to be honest, I wanted to show off a bit. As I stepped up to the door and hit the buzzer, I flipped out the keyboard. I was far from proficient in sign language or Morse, so the more seamless communication would have to wait a while.

The door opened, revealing Shadow Stalker, Aegis, Vista, and Triumph sitting around the room, the latter three playing a card game, the foremost sulking at the consoles. Everyone but Stalker did a double-take, then complements came from the couches, along with an invitation to sit. I spent a few minutes answering questions, showing off features, and asking advice, and came out of it feeling a bit less nervous about the upcoming disaster.

I was dealt in to what turned out to be a game called BS, which I was soon dominating at. Turns out it's easy to bluff when you can't make any vocal tells and are really tiny. Unfortunately, I was soon outmatched as Missy got the right cards to win, consistently being able to play without bluffing, right down to her last card. Us boys just groaned (or sighed in my case) as her final hand turned out to be legit, and she proceeded to do a victory dance.

Pfft. It was luck. I'd get her next time.

After that we scattered around the rec room, heading for couches and chairs. I pulled out a booklet and practiced signing.

The thing most people, myself included, don't realize about sign language, is that it's exactly what it sounds like; a language. It has its own grammar, there are signs that don't directly translate, punctuation just weird sometimes, and sentence structure was based more on emphasis than anything. To be honest, I was a bit overwhelmed by the idea of learning a new language, but it was my backup way to communicate, and Dragon went to so much trouble to code a translator system, so I was determined to learn.

Tap code was actually super easy, and Morse slightly less so. Unfortunately, both were too slow for conversation, only good for when I needed to send a message and couldn't get out my keyboard. Both would still have to be learned, because they wanted me to have options if I wasn't wearing my suit, or it malfunctioned. Combined with English and Spanish class, I was now going to be learning three different languages, three new alphabets, and still had to do PR classes, Parahumans 101-104, and martial arts training, plus school and patrols and paperwork and homework.

At some point, I also had to spend time with my family.

I sighed. At least I didn't feel like I was wasting my time with the Wards stuff. I thought about maybe testing forward in school, but it was a toss-up between being bored and unchallenged, or adding yet another load of actually hard work to my plate. I figured I could maybe test up at the end of the year, skip to fifth grade for next year. That way I would be done with most of the language learning and PR stuff, and take on new challenges next year. I'd have to ask my mom and David what they thought; maybe it would be better to take it on after winter break, get the second half of fourth grade, and repeat that if it did turn out to be a bit much.

I finished my basic signing exercises a few minutes later. I really only knew a few very basic words, and was still learning the English alphabet signs. The hardest part was positioning and speed; to sign, you not only needed the correct hand motion, but also the correct location, position, and movement speed relative to signing speed for it to be interpreted correctly. I kept jabbing myself and stuff from being imprecise, and unfortunately my thinker power only seemed to help with motions with applications in some form of combat, from ritual to actual, so few motions of sign language came easily.

Maybe if I designed a ritual fighting style based on it. That… was easily the most absurd solution for learning a language I had ever heard. I mean, designing a fighting style based on a series of hand signs, just so I could learn those hand signs? I give up, wandering thoughts part of my brain. You win. That thought was so silly it made me feel permanently less intelligent, so it was only a matter of time until that was the only kind of thought I could have. I mean, how would I even design the thing without knowing sign language already, and if I knew sign language, why would I design it?

Ugh. I need to stop getting meta in my own head. I thought back to that one time, shortly after I had learned of the concept of infinity, and the idea that parallel universes might be infinite, when I spent over two hours basically imagining infinite timelines branching infinitely every moment, like some demented dimensional bush of infinitude. I was like 99% sure that was not at all normal for a 7-year-old to imagine when his mind wandered.

And I'm wandering again. I really needed to focus. What would I 'say' at the press conference? Let's try the gesture tool out. Where was the documentation again?

I went on like that awhile, trying to ignore my sense of impending doom.


	18. Stasis 2-8

Stasis 2.8

I was scared. Scratch that, I was a deer in headlights.

The press conference had, like, fifty people. Fifty people here, and a bunch of cameras, a decent number of which were aimed at me. I did my best to look casual, but heroic; I probably looked like a kid on Halloween. I smiled, inwardly wishing I could run away.

No! This was my moment!

No! This was my last day as a hero!

No, it would be fine!

Will it?

YES! Stop worrying and listen to the speech!

"… the Wards program is proud to introduce their newest member, Mandala!" Scattered applause. "Mandala is young, but shows promise. His powers are versatile, and he fits the local Wards team's group dynamic well, granting increased battlefield control and more options to round out the group. In addition, he is mute, and has agreed to be one of the first testers for a bevy of new technologies that can be used to help those with speech problems live more normal lives, in a project spearheaded by Dragon herself." More applause, some murmurs into recorders and such.

I didn't remember agreeing to that specifically, but whatever.

"Now, Mandala has prepared a few words in advance, then I'll take some questions." Adrian finished. My cue received, I stepped forward, adjusting the mic to my height. I had had to set up all my words in advance, but thankfully, the gesture system was intuitive. Type message, three count, make gesture. To use, make gesture. Wipe in menu.

I waved, and the mask spoke. 'Hello everyone. I'm Mandala, and I'm here to serve.'

I opened my arms in a welcoming gesture. 'I may be young, but I'm a firm believer that anyone can be a hero, regardless of age.'

I brought my hand to my chest. 'I have powers, but a hero is more than that. Heroes help people who aren't able to protect themselves.'

I took my right hand away from my chest, setting it on the podium. 'Firefighters and cops are heroes. Teachers who stop bullies are heroes. Good Samaritans are heroes.'

I raised my left hand to rub the back of my head, smiling. 'I hope to let my actions speak for themselves, if you'll pardon the joke. Thank you.'

There was a ripple of laughter, followed by applause as I stepped back from the podium. Adrian stepped back up to the podium, adjusting the mic and applauding.

"Mandala, everybody!" A pause for the second round of applause. "I'll be taking questions now."

Phew. That was stressful.

Assuming a position somewhat like military rest, I sort of listened as Adrian answered some questions and avoided or outright denied others, while I practiced meditation to keep myself still. Ten minutes of talking later, I was allowed to leave the stage.

Ten minutes after that, I was out on my first patrol.

-Shangri-La-

Patrolling was actually pretty fun.

I was accompanied by Aegis and Vista. Apparently, Wards younger than 13 needed 2 others with them, but there was a loophole where only one of the others had to be older than 13. Badly written, but it would've killed our synergy for a few months otherwise, so nobody was complaining.

Not that we needed it, since we were essentially on an afternoon stroll at the Boardwalk. Wards patrols were more about having presence than anything; a preventative measure most days, with only a few small crimes per day. Moreover, today was my first day officially on the job, so the patrol route we had been assigned was best summed up as 'Go to the highest pedestrian traffic areas and be friendly.'

So, we were walking the Boardwalk districts at peak shopping time, signing autographs and showing off powers and stuff, taking turns to ascend to rooftops and look for actual crimes. I had cleared my gestures, and bound 'Hi, I'm Mandala, the newest Ward' to handshakes, a raised right hand to 'High Five!', and a left-handed emphatic point to say over comms 'I see something' for when I checked rooftops.

Side note, it was super fun to jump to rooftops. A quick push with the pavement, some air to cut my weight a bunch, maybe some wall running or jumping if I was still short, and no worries about falling too hard? Air control was quickly becoming my favorite power of the bunch. I really wondered if I could fly like this. I might need more surface area, wings or something, but I might be able to do it.

An hour passed that way, as we reached point B of our route, turning away from the far edges of the Boardwalk, heading southwest to hit some of the Docks area before we headed back to base. Vista and I took to the rooftops, while Aegis played overwatch and first responder. Vista crunched space to walk from rooftop to rooftop, while I did various acrobatics to get around. I could never hope to do a backflip before, but with my training, powers, and recent loss of weight as my baby fat finally burned away, it was easy, effortless, to ascend a story while backflipping.

Suddenly, Aegis' voice came through the earbud. "Got a mugging in progress, permission to apprehend?" Triumph's voice came over the line. "Permission granted, Aegis." I looked up in time to see him dive down into an alleyway two buildings down, and heard a yell. Vista shrank the space to the alley down to a few steps, and in moments we were on either side of the area, ready to apprehend any runners.

Aegis had it covered, though. I winced as the poor muggers tried to hit him, only to receive a strong punch to the gut and a kick to the shins, knocking two of the three out of the fight right away. Aegis cheated a little, from what I saw in the sparring matches; he liked to use flight to make himself light on his feet, and had gotten used to fighting this way. I wasn't surprised when he took out the other one with a drop to the ground and a two-legged sweep that would have been almost impossible to pull off without the flight. They hit the ground with a crack, moaning, as we moved to restrain them.

Zip ties are pure evil, by the way. Hard to break, easy to tighten, like a finger-trap toy. They are easy enough to cut, but really hard to escape otherwise. The Wards program issued very heavy duty zip ties, among other restraining devices. Unless these guys had powers, they would not be escaping before the cops arrived. Even if they tried, we had to wait with them, so they wouldn't get far.

As we waited, Vista decided to try making some of those weird space warps she had felt in my world. She'd looked it up, and the shape she had felt was a non-Euclidean shape, which I had never heard of but, typically, proceeded to fall in love with. They were so cool. Space that did impossible-feeling things with direction and distance, weird things like single-sided objects, it was amazing, and I had been disheartened to learn that it was mostly a college-level subject. Still, I could enjoy the concepts.

When the cops arrived, Vista and I were testing running some fire through a Klein Bottle in the air above the alley, while Aegis watched with interest, occasionally checking on the perps or chatting with the man who was their would-be victim, a man named Larry. We sadly dispelled the construct, silently resolving to try more stuff in our free time. After the handoff and the other three giving statements, we wished Larry a safe walk home and went on.

It was dark now; the days having shortened significantly as winter approached. We turned straight south a few blocks down, heading towards Downtown, which was about half an hour away at our speed. More roof hopping was had. I was definitely getting the hang of using my aerokinesis to enhance my movements. Unlike most of the other elements, it was less of a martial art and more a way of moving, a nimbleness borne from the thought of wanting to be nimble. Moreover, the air gave me a sort of background music when I used it, which gave me something to focus on so my thoughts wouldn't wander so much.

A few minutes after our turn, we ran into another situation. We were deep in the Docks area, and some ABB thugs were making trouble, tagging walls, smashing mirrors off cars, etc. This time, Aegis played overwatch while Vista and I were tasked with the goons.

Vista took us down to street level in a moment, putting us a few yards away from the group, and shouting, "Stop! Put the weapons down and your hands in the air, or we'll have to use force!"

Unfortunately, even though we were capes, they decided they could take us. Not the smartest bunch, that was for sure. The big guy in front came running at us, pipe raised, and the fight was on.

Vista backed up, and I advanced, readying my stance to dodge his swing effortlessly a moment later. A small kick, and the asphalt beneath his foot dropped a bit, then rose, completely destroying his balance, and I encased his hands in asphalt as he fell. Vista, meanwhile, had begun bending space around the area, but I couldn't really understand what she was doing yet. Two more out of the group came charging in, while another fumbled for something on his belt. Prioritize him.

I ducked around the two, running with the wind to the man who might have a gun. A front flip and axe kick sent a blade of fire in his direction, making him fumble the weapon he had been producing as he frantically dodged, and I followed up by raising my hands to entrap his body in asphalt as I landed out of the flip. I spun, ready to deal with the others –

Only to find a kaleidoscope of warped space entrapping the two I had passed, and the final thug on the ground next to Aegis' feet. Vista had crafted a prison, and funneled them into it through tubes of warped space she had moved around the area. She fist-pumped as I looked to her. "Yeah, it worked!"

Aegis stared at the warped images of the thugs as he called the police again, and once he got off the call, he asked, "They're okay in there, right? Can they get air?" "Yeah. It was hard, but they're essentially in a space technically outside my warping, but surrounded by a 1-sided figure with a very small gap right above them. I doubt I could do it so quick if I had to hold more people, but maintaining it is not too hard for now."

"Good, I'm glad to see all that advanced geometry I've been helping you with is paying off. Even with _my_ biology that stuff still hurts my brain," he snarked, a smile in his eyes. "Oh, and Mandala? Good work out there, and nice eye on the gun. You're a real natural at this." I smiled and nodded, acknowledging the compliment. Just two weeks ago, I was barely holding myself together, and now I was dealing out justice and giving 'speeches'. Moreover, I had friends now, and people respected my opinions.

Jessica had probably been the turning point, actually. After the fall, I had had an idea that therapy was needed, but I had never really realized how inept my last therapist had been. I had never been able to open up to her, because she always seemed to act like I was overreacting. Jessica listened, listened for hours, as I laid out my life piece by piece, sentence by stumbling sentence, and after I had finished, she laid out my problems in a way I knew was right, but hadn't been able to say. I was far from recovered, that was sure, but I felt a little more okay, and looked forward to tomorrow's session.

The police showed up while I was thinking, and once again, they collected the thugs, took reports from my teammates while politely declining mine (I didn't mind), and we were on our way. Simple stuff. Man, the ones in the bubble had a mouth on them as it came down, but put their hands up regardless. Only minor injuries, a concussion for the one Aegis knocked out, nothing big. They were a bit unhappy with the road I used as a restraint, but I smoothed it over. Literally. Less cracks than it had before I got here.

The rest of the night was calm as can be. No more thugs, no capes, no muggings, and so on. I could tell from the resonance of the air that a snowstorm was incoming, but that just meant no school tomorrow. We got back with plenty of time to go our separate ways before the deluge of impending winter flooded the streets with powder. I headed off to the Rig, another night of training ready to occupy my thoughts.

Today, I was a Ward. Today, I was a hero.

A/N: Expect a bonus update Wednesday. An internet cookie to whoever can guess what it is. (Hint: Not a PHO chapter.) Also, if anyone out there wants to make fanart of Mandala, feel free to pop by the SB thread and show it off!


	19. PRT Threat Assessment - Mandala

A/N: This is the original power rating document as of the end of Arc 2. I will be updating the Spacebattles version as new powers are discovered by the PRT, but this version will remain here, unedited. Instead, I'll be adding footnotes if a change is made from here on.

[CLASSIFIED]

File opened November 26th, 2010, under name 'Materia'

Full name: Michael Bryan Vanderbilt

Alias: Mandala

DOB: April 9th, 2002

Trigger Date: November 20th, 2010

Rating: Shaker 12 (Stranger 5), Blaster/Shaker 7(Mover 2, Striker 2), Thinker 4

Special notes: 'Noctis' parahuman

Mandala is a Ward under the jurisdiction of the Parahuman Response Teams East-Northeast branch.

* * *

Psychological and historical summary (Full history and Trigger details in psych profile):

* * *

He has no prior criminal activity, pre- or post-trigger event.

He has no prior cape identity pre-Wards. His original codename, Materia, was never widely used outside the PRT.

Mandla's basic psych profile indicates that he believes those with power should use it for the betterment of others., a classic 'hero's duty' mindset.

He is unlikely to become a threat to the PRT, but does pose extreme danger should it occur.

He suffers from multiple mental disorders:

Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder - Standard symptoms include restlessness and lack of focus, especially when the subject is not interesting.

Severe Depression - Mandala suffered from suicidal depression before joining the Wards. He continues therapy treatment for his depression on a regular basis, and his therapist has expressed the opinion that he is not suicidal, but has given no evidence due to doctor-patient confidentiality.

Low Auditory Processing Disorder - Manifests as a difficulty remembering correct wording even shortly after hearing or reading words, while fully understanding intent, and mildly impaired communication speed, especially in creative formats.

Anxiety - mostly related to stressors such as school, interaction, and since his trigger, has professed anxiety over his escapist fantasies.

Muteness - All indicators point to this being a side effect of his powers.

Despite these inhibitors, he is above average intelligence, especially for the age of 8. He expresses a distinct desire to learn, and his reading speed is above average for an adult.

He has little experience with confrontation, verbal or physical. He tends towards careful decisions over decisive or impulsive behavior, but can occasionally seem impulsive due to his inability to speak and ADHD.

He has been eager to test any new aspects of his powers as they have appeared, in detail, and with no complaints on repetition.

Mandala is an incredibly powerful parahuman, and should not be underestimated based on appearance. His powers are versatile and wide in scope, and every indication says he will be an exemplary asset to the Wards program and Protectorate.

* * *

Shaker 12 and Subratings

* * *

Mandala has access to an undefined number of "Dream Worlds", described by him as indescribably beautiful and unique jewels, which normally stay just out of sight for himself. This appears to be an illusion only he can see. The 'jewels' can either exert a 'pull' on him, or be 'pushed' by him, but neither state locks the other option.

When he allows himself to be 'pulled' he becomes completely unresponsive to any outside force. All mental functions are projected into the world he has chosen, receiving no outside input, and he is able to explore and use all of his powers freely without his outside body reacting beyond very reduced emotional response.

Upon 'pushing' a world, he describes a large shift in his illusory interface, with the jewels swinging into 'view' in a ring, and the chosen world taking a spot just beneath his point of view, with a point indicating where on his world they are, which can be moved freely. None of these illusions hamper his sight. Simultaneously, he becomes aware of three metrics: his maximum range, his current affected range, and a tactile sense of everything created by his effect, as well as the terrain immediately around the effect.

Maximum range - Mandala has a relatively small starting range of about 20' in diameter, but it increases at a steady rate the longer he has been in a general area. Its rate of growth has been reported to vary between a half-inch and an inch per second on its radius.

During power testing, Mandala was in a gymnasium for several hours on end before this power was tested. His maximum range was not fully tested at this time, as it easily encompassed not only the gymnasium, but most of the base surrounding it: see file Prot_ENE/Headquarters

Effect - Inside his maximum range, Mandala may choose to affect any area he chooses, although the center point must first be set by his activation of the power. Any area affected 'grows' features of the world chosen at a rapid pace, until they are fully formed. Mandala can, both during and after the initial spread, create structures out of materials themed after the local effect's environment, although this power is much slower once the effect finishes 'growing' in that area.

This power can also be projected onto surfaces, allowing others to see and enter the worlds. The person or object encounters an invisible wall at Mandala's maximum range,, but is otherwise free to move within the spherical area.

The person(s) or objects that travel into his worlds this way can travel past all barriers within his maximum range completely undetected. To get back, however, Mandala must shut his power off, and anything that intersects a real-world solid will have an even chance of one of the objects being destroyed in favor of the other, or both combining into a single material, when he does so. He has no Manton limit on this aspect of his power, making it excessively dangerous to use. This power grants him a Stranger 5 subrating, to be upgraded if he determines a way to reliably keep the intruder intact.

Mandala can erase structural features with his powers, but the affected structure shows no sign of alteration or strain.

Mandala is able to project a hole by moving his 'point' above the surface of any world. Best guesses are that he can move this point anywhere there is atmosphere to fill the majority of the volume, but it is possible, if unlikely, that he could fill his area with water, rock, or even mantle, all three of which have understandably not been tested.

Mandala's worlds are not all Earthlike- expect extreme variations on the laws of physics, seemingly impossible terrains, and possibly hostile or poisonous plant life. A list of worlds would be pointless for this same reason; any list would be entirely useless, due to the sheer variability of his power.

The worlds have a notable lack of any animal life. If any worlds with animals, especially ones unlike Earth's fauna, are found, a Master subrating may be added.

Mandala has a tactile sense of his effect, allowing him to alter the inside terrain as needed without retaining eye contact. He has displayed no more multitasking ability than average, instead relying on his power to extrapolate his volition for any changes he wishes to make.

This effect is not a projection; although the rules are not clearly known, material has been brought back and persisted long after his effect ended.

Mandala's Manton limit for this power appears to be based around 'environment', since he does not replace clothing or armor. This may be a conceptual limitation, however, and is not to be relied upon in confrontation.

Mandala's main Shaker power is also assisted by his hybrid Blaster/Shaker powers, and the Shaker aspects of those are reflected in his Shaker Rating. His total threat rating for his Shaker powers comes out to 12+, a rating reserved for extreme cases.

* * *

Blaster/Shaker 7 and Subratings

* * *

Mandala has full, non-Manton-limited control of all four classical elements: 'air', 'water', 'earth' and 'fire' These are in quotations due to the fact that these are unspecific categories, and are further extrapolated upon below. Mandala controls these elements through gestures and movements, mostly associated with various martial arts, and must be aware of the element in order to affect it.

This is assisted by an extra set of senses, which allow him to 'hear' the elements as a sort of music, which increases in clarity as he focuses on the senses. All of these elements gain finer control as they get closer to Mandala, and Mandala can gain still finer control and sensing abilities by calming the mind and focusing on his 'music'. As this ability has no effect on his threat potential, it has been determined that it does not warrant a Thinker subrating.

Air- Control of gasses; able to distinguish and separate gasses, but only with some focus. Can generate or reduce pressure, create whirlwinds and other major winds, and has even used 'wind armor' to some effect in sparring. Martial arts used primarily focus on movement and avoidance of attacks.

He can naturally channel air around himself to make himself a minor Mover, able to run and jump several times faster and higher than a normal human, and boost his movements as well.

He is able to literally pull the air from someone's lungs, as he has no Manton Limit. He has never demonstrated this ability in combat, and professed mild horror at the idea as more than an emergency knockout maneuver.

Water- Control of water and any mixture containing it, although the greater the impurity, the harder it is to sense. Able to make water change states, from liquid to solid or gas, and control of all three states. Martial arts involved focus on redirection of motion and working around your opponent's attacks.

Can control bodily fluids, although it requires intense concentration to detect anything but urine or saliva. Control of blood, CSF, or cellular fluids is both unfeasible due to how much concentration is needed, and extremely dangerous, most likely resulting in the death of the victim. Master 9 pre-approved if Mandala ever finds a way around the need for meditation to sense and control these fluids.

Able to control the water in plants to control them, or even just tear the water out of the plants. No special affinity for plants beyond this.

Can sort impurities out of water, given time to do so.

Earth- Control of minerals and soils. Easily the most diverse power of the bunch in terms of materials affected, but limits are not currently very well-defined; further testing is needed. Martial arts used are primarily based around powerful strikes and strong stances.

As stated above, more testing is needed. Not much has been tested with this aspect of his powers, due to its extreme reliance on non-manmade terrain. Much of the Shaker part of this hybrid rating is based on this category, based on the extreme versatility shown by his range of materials; expect anything based around some form of rock, soil, mineral, or other ground material to be affected.

Fire- Full thermokinesis, fire generation, control. Possibly control over extremely strong electrical currents, but this is understandably hard to test safely. Able to heat, or direct heat away from, materials. Martial arts used mostly derive from kung fu and kickboxing, styles that rely mostly on efficient series of attacks, although some abilities notably rely more on other, less hostile disciplines.

Striker subclass is based off of the fact that Mandala can significantly heat an object without producing fire if it is very close to him, a sort of 'melting touch'.

Notably has very little resistance to extremes of temperature; can withstand minor heat and cold more than average, but can also be burned fairly easily.

All fire generated appears within a few inches of his skin, but once created it can be maintained only through direct control or attachment to a flammable surface, and has no special properties.

Strong electrical currents can be felt, but attempts to produce or direct them met with failure. Only remaining idea was to provide a very strong shock to Mandala, and this was summarily denied by all sides as a feasible solution. If high-intensity electricity generation is achieved, Blaster 8 is approved upon testing.

Again, all of the above abilities are not Manton-limited. Engagement is not advised without proper planning. The rating of 7 may seem low for such versatility, but this is because the battlefield control aspects of his power are already folded into his Shaker rating. He is functionally a Blaster 7, with two extremely versatile and complementary Shaker powers that rate 12 together.

* * *

Thinker 4

* * *

Mandala has the ability to perfectly copy any combat-related motion he has seen before, including through visual media. This power includes most movements that are related to movements related to combat, as well. He is impeded by the fact that his body is far from the correct size for these movements, and his power is too perfect, copying the viewed movement exactly without regard for figure. Thus, he has a dramatically reduced learning curve, but must practice the move, to alter it for his particular build, and to build actual muscle memory.

This power is extremely complimentary to his Blaster/Shaker powers, allowing him to learn the fighting styles he needs in order to utilize them. It also means that, despite his outward appearance, he is quickly becoming one of the most highly trained combat capes in the Protectorate, alongside his instructor, Miss Militia. His physical deficiencies are compensated for by his Mover subrating, but in a fight relying solely on hand-to-hand, with no power assistance, he will still be a fairly dangerous opponent to even a single trained adult, or a group of untrained, inexperienced adults.

These are clear indicators for a Thinker rating of 4. Those coming into contact with him should be made aware that any trick they have will probably be used against them once they've used it, and that it may not be effective anyway.

* * *

Recommended Actions if Hostile

* * *

If at all possible or acceptable, recommended action is to talk him down. Mandala is an intelligent individual, and despite his age, he responds well to logic and reason. Those talking to him should be aware of the events surrounding his trigger event, to best avoid potentially disastrous topics or mannerisms. Extreme care should be taken, and negotiations may have to be met. This course of action is highly recommended by WEDGDG and supported by other Protectorate Thinkers as the most effective solution for most situations.

Mandala is likely to hold back if brought to confrontation, but even so, he is a dangerous opponent. Unpowered humans, even highly trained ones, will have extreme difficulty in close combat, as will many parahumans. Mandala will learn any move he sees, and be faster, stronger, and lighter on his feet than any normal child. His combat style will likely shift moment to moment, and he should be expected to utilize his environment far beyond what any other combatant could, even when his Shaker power is not in play. If his Shaker power does come into play, expect the environment to betray and actively hinder anyone not allied with Mandala, and don't trust areas bordering his effect.

• Mandala is not able to be contained in the Birdcage. Mobile restraining methods may not work either; his minimum range means he might be able to escape any restraints, even if he is kept moving at high speed. Thus, a kill order is pre-authorized should he commit any major crimes.

In the event of a kill order, irreconcilable hostility, Simurgh influence, or S-Class status, recommended action is sniper fire from outside his maximum area of effect, or, if that fails, a missile strike on his location. Due to his lack of a Brute rating, these methods should be effective and suffer minimal casualties. Anything, living or machine, that requires air or water-based liquids to function is not to be allowed within a quarter mile of him. Expect the unexpected, especially if the maximum radius cannot be confirmed - an extremely likely event, as he need not fill his entire radius. If at all possible, action should be taken while his area is small; it is entirely possible for him to survive a siege indefinitely, and the larger his area, the greater his ability to do so.

• Protectorate Thinkers have assigned an all-out attack on Mandala as a highly dangerous event, beyond what his abilities so far have shown - it is entirely possible he, and by extension the PRT, are unaware of his full scope of power.

Other options should these fail include:

• Attacks using High-level Trump-classed heroes such as Eidolon, or Breakers such as Legend who can withstand extreme conditions, or extreme examples of Case 53 heroes to attack him; specifically, those parahumans that may not be dependent on air, water, minerals, or heat to function - risk of major injury, decent chance of success. Recommended backup plan, should a missile strike fail.

• Having a teleporter drop him into a vacuum, or a room filled with only poisonous gasses - extremely low recommendation. Likely that Mandala is capable of using his powers to remove the problems of cold, breathable air, and sustenance, and fairly likely that any Mover strong enough to do so will die in the attempt. Unlikely to succeed, but less likely to cause mass devastation than other options.

• Teleporting him to an S-class threat, save those that are actively hostile, in the hopes one will destroy the other - extremely low recommendation. Reasonable possibility that this will hurt or kill the teleporter, and may agitate the threat in question, but likely to deal with the threat Mandala poses.

Any plans that fall outside the purview of these contingencies should be reported to WEDGDG or a similar organization for approval before being enacted.

In summation, Mandala is an excessively powerful parahuman, one who has potential to be a great asset to the PRT, but easily capable of immense devastation if he is given reason to. Unfortunately, any hostile action must either end on terms he finds amenable, or be met with lethal force.


	20. Stasis 2-V

A/N: Full disclosure, the last part of this interlude is massively off-canon timeline-wise, but I wrote it before I found that out, and since I already foreshadowed it in Arc 1 and Interlude , I decided to keep it.

Also, skip the part immediately after Lung's if you're sensitive to colorful language.

Stasis 2.V

Max Anders was a busy man. He ran a nationally recognized pharmaceutical manufacturer and distribution empire, was a patron of the arts, a philanthropist, and one of the top campaign contributors for Mayor Christner and Governor Peters. Much of his wealth and power was handed down to him from his father, but he had made a name for himself as a cunning and masterful CEO, and thus earned his reputation.

Kaiser was a busy man. He ran a nationally recognized gathering of the superior race, a veritable Empire of the pure, whose goal was to improve humanity by cutting out its cancers; he was a patron of the movement throughout the world; He advocated for freedoms such as recreational use and urban revival projects; and he was supported by both locals and interests abroad. Much of his influence and power had its origins in his father's work, but he had made a name for himself as a cunning and masterful leader of men, and thus earned his reputation.

Max made a point to keep on top of any situation; if a shipment was damaged, their reputation of excellence would be tarnished; if an employee was smuggling, it would be disastrous for PR.

Kaiser made a point to keep on top of any situation; if someone defeated his fellow capes, it would tarnish their reputation, and they would have to retaliate; if other gangs moved into his territory, it would be bad for PR.

Kaiser watched the press conference with interest. It wasn't every day you got advance notice of a new enemy, after all, even if it was one of the Wards. Half the Wards were independents for a time, determined to make fools of themselves before coming to heel. Rune had been much the same, but she had come into the fold in time.

The boy was young, though. Unexpectedly so. Brad would have referred to him as a pup; he couldn't be more than ten. He frowned when the boy's 'name' was announced; a pity. He was of the proper race, but his name stank of chink sympathy. Indeed, a pity; those less patient among his allies would not like this at all; he would have to reinforce the fact that they were not to seriously harm the brats.

After all, they were still too weak to drive off the Protectorate, especially since Purity had left.

Purity had not been his first wife, but she had been a suitable one; they had been powerful together, and had had a girl. He'd had hopes that little Aster could one day rule when he had gone, a hope he had long lost with his disappointment of a son, but Purity had taken her, and while getting her back would be trivial for a man of Max's influence, he honestly didn't need a baby to deal with right now. Theo was bad enough.

Kaiser noted that they made no mention of his actual powers, but picked up on the fact that the boy was implied to be fairly powerful. His eyebrows rose as the boy demonstrated the technology he used to compensate for muteness, and resolved to see if he could acquire a copy through his moles in the PRT, or perhaps via Medhall. Cricket would get a decent bit of use out of such a device with far less hassle than the larynx she used now; it would be a good motivator for her.

He sat through the rest of the press conference, making note of the answers to some of the less inane questions, then stood. He had a meeting to call.

-Shangri-La-

Lung was not a happy man. The Wards had patrolled through his territory today, and captured a few of his men. He was not angry about the men; they had been fools, brazenly destroying the property of those who had paid protection money already. They should count themselves lucky they had been caught.

Nor was he angry about the Ward intrusion. They had jobs just as he did, and they were but children who knew no better. As long as they did not challenge him, they were ignored. He was not angry about the new Ward; the boy was a child, and no threat to him. Nobody was.

No, he was angry because of Purity.

The woman had been challenging his gang, raiding his stockpiles and injuring his men. Lee had engaged her on more than one occasion, but she was too fast to escape when he showed up. As of yet, she had not directly challenged him. This was as it should be; regardless, she had gained his attentions, and would soon feel his wrath.

This was certain, for he was Lung.

He would wait for her next insult, and respond in kind when it came. He would pay her back tenfold for her impertinence, but leave her alive, as an example. Fear would keep others from challenging him, as it had in the past.

To create fear, one must leave others to tell the tale, and if the one telling the tale was the one who had been made an example, all the better, for they would have firsthand accounts of the sheer terror he inspired. Yes, Purity would be made an example, to be taken back to her Empire.

Lung relaxed into his armchair, dreaming dreams of fire and terror.

-Shangri-La-

Skidmark yelled at his minion, "You think I give a flying, backward shitfuck what the puckersucking, cock-tailed colostomy-screwers up at the Penis- Receiving- Trannywhores added to their little harem of pedobaiting, pus-ridden, stinkfingered, clitflicking cunt-spawn? Get back out there and make some sales!"

-Shangri-La-

Brian was on edge. He'd received an invitation to another job, and by the sound of it, this might be a more permanent employment opportunity. What made him suspicious, though, was the last line on the card he'd found in the P.O. box.

 _'Don't insult her dogs.'_

He wasn't sure what to make of it, but in the end, he needed the money. Aisha was acting up again, disappearing for a day or two at a time from his father's house, and pretty soon, it would be his mother's six months with her. He needed an apartment by then, so he could start filing the starting paperwork for custody rights, and being employed meant he could hopefully do just that. Sure, he would have to find a way to make it legitimate income, but that wasn't something he'd need to start.

He walked into the area the note said to meet at, turning on a trickle of darkness to leak from his body on all sides. He'd taken pictures of it, and the effect was intimidating. He'd gone online to find good names for darkness users, but a lot were taken. Shadow Stalker would have been perfect, even. He eventually settled on his new name, Grue, a creature that scuttled in the depths of shadows. It wasn't a great fit, but it worked.

A few minutes of waiting later, he saw a very strange sight. A guy in a full renaissance fair outfit walked into the alley intersection, his mask covering the top half of his face, his shirt poofing out around a thin frame. Grue tensed a bit, then relaxed. This guy was probably –

"Hey, tall, dark, and handsome. You here for the meeting?"

-Never mind. No way this guy called the meeting. "Yeah, you have any idea what this is about?"

"Nope. Nice voice, by the way. Spooky." He emphasized this with sarcastic hand wiggling.

He hadn't gotten a chance to record his voice like this yet – was it really that strange-sounding? Maybe he could use that, up the scare factor to keep people from fighting.

"Thanks."

They settled into an awkward silence. A few minutes later, they tensed up as the ground started shaking a bit. They stood their ground, though; Grue was not going to run until he was sure this was a setup, and the other boy decided to lean casually against an alley wall. Moments later, a giant monster stampeded into the alley, two smaller ones close behind. They looked somewhat reptilian, or maybe like those anteater-looking armadillo things, but amped to immense size, had raw meat glued to them, and had terrifyingly large and sharp teeth. Easily the scariest looking animals he had ever seen, that was sure. A heavyset girl sat on the thing's shoulders, a cheap dog mask on her face.

' _Don't insult her dogs.'_

Those things were dogs? Brian mentally checked his disbelief. Powers were weird sometimes, there was a guy who turned into a dragon in town. Monster pangolin-looking dogs weren't average, but they weren't exactly out of place. "Nice dogs," he said, hoping that was generic enough to fit the bill.

The girl looked his way, staring intently at him, before finally saying, "They're mine."

The guy spoke up. "What breed are they? Dinosaur? Alien? Poodle?"

She actually growled, her dog's ears flattening. Grue moved to shut him up before he got himself hurt, but before he could, a phone began to ring, and everyone froze, then began to look around. The quick search found it taped to a wall down one of the alleys, a cheap flip model. He flipped it open and put it on speaker. "Hello?"

"Hello. I am a liaison to the person who has called you here, who wishes to remain anonymous. They have called you three here today to offer you a job, and more importantly, to form a team. Should you all choose to accept, my employer is willing to pay you a monthly retainer of 2000 dollars, offer your group a base of operations, and give you access to their many contacts and resources. They are also willing to take requests on other accommodations, within reason. I'll stay on the line to answer questions, but feel free to talk about this among yourselves."

That was a lot to take in at once. He muted the phone. Where to start? Names. "Okay, I'm Grue. What're your names?"

"Bitch."

"Excuse me?"

"My name is Bitch."

"Oh, right." Whatever you say, then.

"I go by Regent."

"Okay, next we should talk powers. I generate this stuff." He demonstrated with a brief flood of the mist. "It blocks light and sound, but I can see through it."

"I make dogs bigger, stronger." Truly, a woman of few words.

"I do this," Regent said, and with a gesture, Grue's arm twitched violently. That was not pleasant, not one bit. He took a moment to stop himself from the urge to yell at Regent for not warning him. So, they had cover, muscle, movement, and a guy who could give people spasms and cramps to slow them down. Personality-wise, not the best match, but he had to get that apartment, soon, and 2k a month would cover that no problem. This was going to be a pain, but he had to do it for Aisha's sake. He spoke.

"Okay, I can kind of see some synergy with our powers. We could make this work. You guys game?"

Regent replied with a shrug and a nod, while Bitch took a minute to think. Finally, she said gruffly, "Fine. I'll try it. Better than the street."

Grue turned the phone off mute. "Okay, we're willing to work together. Let's talk about this job."


	21. Changes 3-1

Changes 3.1

Fwup. Fwup. Fwupfwupfwup.

"Good, but you need to be more grounded when you hit. Dig in your feet as you throw the punch, to give power to the strike. Watch me." Hannah threw the series of punches, and I focused on her footwork. She was right, of course. I could even tell how doing that little tweak might help me get more power behind my, well, power. I tried again.

Fwup. Fwup. Fwupfwup _fwup_!

"Very good! Okay, practice that combo for five minutes, and make sure to focus on delivering power to your target." I began hammering the bag methodically. This was a typical night for me now. Movie, match or other martial arts video, followed by step-by-step breakdowns of fighting styles by Hannah, followed by both of us training (using our powers to cheat a bunch) until we had it down, and moving on to the next part.

Her perfect recall meant she would never forget a move, but she still had to train muscle memory a bit to achieve results. My powers gave me intuitive knowledge of any move I saw or did, but I had to alter most of my moves from adult size to kid size, and most kid moves I saw were far from expert. Thus, we both got something out of it.

 _Fwup, fwup, fwupfwupfwup!_

"Okay, I think we've got it down, let's move on to the next one." So it went, a broad spectrum of fighting techniques, a bevy of options for every situation. I was no master, but I was certainly no average kid anymore, either. I could beat an untrained adult without using my other powers at all. I was losing weight and gaining some strength and endurance. I was quickly becoming one of the most powerful parahumans in the country, S-classes included.

I still missed sleeping sometimes.

-Shangri-La-

"So, how was your week?"

I gestured 'so-so', then typed. 'Ups and downs. School was bad, Wards intro was good.'

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I nodded, began to type. 'School was the same as always. Depressing.' 'Other students realized I'm mute.' 'I also had to quit band, and cut back on my reading.' 'Otherwise, I couldn't have kept up with training.'

"Do you like training?"

I thought a bit, shrugged, typed again. 'Training is good. I need to be ready for my job.'

She repeated, "But do you like it?"

'I like training, but wish I didn't have to' 'give up other things to keep up.' 'I have a lot to learn now.'

"That doesn't sound healthy. You shouldn't stress yourself so much, especially at your age. Stress can stunt growth and increase health problems, especially as you begin puberty." Ah, _that_. "Try making a point to take time for yourself, instead of throwing yourself into your work. You're a very smart person, but take it from someone with a lot of experience working with stressed parahumans; just because you have powers, doesn't mean you have to take the whole world onto your shoulders. You have as much a right to enjoy yourself as anyone else."

She was right, of course. I knew I didn't have to be amazing. The problem was, _I wanted to_. I wanted to be able to help others, I wanted to learn how to communicate again, I wanted to know how to look good to other people. I had to catch up to the other Wards, at least Missy, so that I could be effective on the team. I needed to do so much.

Jessica waited patiently as I thought. I wished so much that I could have just said what I was thinking, stream of consciousness style, and have her help me sort through it, but every sentence counted. I was far from a fast writer or typist, and had problems finding the right words when I needed them. I put down the phone, massaging my temples, trying to clear my thoughts. Focus. I want to tell her – what? Do I need to keep training, or do I want more time to myself? What do I even say, how do I explain my reasons easily?

I finally picked back up the phone. 'Sorry, got my thoughts in order now.' 'You're right. Keeping up this pace would make me burn out.' 'I'll see about changing my schedule somehow.' 'I just wanted to catch up now, instead of later.'

"That's perfectly understandable, but you need more time for yourself. Winter break is coming up. You should be able to catch up some then, without driving yourself to exhaustion."

I flashed her an 'ok', then typed again. 'Two questions; 1, should I test up a grade?' 'And 2, should I try to test into fourth grade now,' 'or wait and test into fifth grade next year?'

She had been sitting patiently, nodding a bit as each new sentence played over the speaker. Emotions played across her face as she considered the options. She spoke after the last sentence finished. "I am not a guidance counselor, so take what I say with a grain of salt. Ordinarily, I would have recommended the latter option, assuming you did indeed need a challenge in school. Which I think you do, to be clear. Skipping grades can be hard on friendships, especially at such a critical point in your mental development."

"However, your social problems and bullying mean that you wouldn't be leaving friends behind, and you might actually relieve stress more by being among older students who don't know you as well. You certainly shouldn't have problems with catching up on the curriculum, assuming you cut down the extra training and classes like we discussed. If you can cut back on those extracurricular tasks, I'd recommend testing up sometime next quarter. The final decision is one your mother and school will have to make, but I will talk to her for you if you need me to."

'Thank you, I haven't had a chance to ask'

"Why not?"

'Well, I've only been home to prep for school.' 'I train at night, and have classes in the afternoon.'

She actually facepalmed. "Michael, this is exactly why we need to cut down your schedule." She looked up, folded her hands, and explained. "You haven't been really at home in days. By the sound of it, you probably haven't even talked to them that much. Your family is a vital part of your mental health; they need you as much as you need them!"

"If I could, I'd be ordering you home right after this session. Please, don't neglect your relationship with your family just to be a Ward. You have your whole life ahead of you, being a Ward can come later."

Her words took a few seconds to really hit home, but when they did, it was like a sledgehammer.

Jessica was right. I'd been so absorbed in my training that I not only had lost perspective, I had left my family behind. Hell, they were the reason I wasn't still a suicidal wreck! I was so stupid sometimes! How could I be a hero if I didn't even have time for my own brothers, or tell my mom about my day?

I wanted to help my mom with her depression, but instead I'd forgotten her, forgotten all of them in my push to be capable. I… I felt so small. The tears began to flow. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I'd been so worried about myself that I'd lost track of what's important to me.

Again.

Jessica came over and wrapped me in a hug as I sobbed silently. "It's okay, Michael."

I looked up a bit through the tears. She continued, stroking my head as she did. "People get caught up in things all the time, and sometimes lose track of their reasons for doing everything they've done. But sometimes, somebody who cares about them realizes what's happening, and helps them come back from it. Just because you think you failed doesn't mean you did; the only one blaming you is yourself. Let yourself move past this, and you'll be happier for it, I promise."

I responded by hugging her back, tears still trickling down my cheeks. She was right, once again. I couldn't beat myself up over this, I had to move forward. I needed to get back to my family, to talk to them, and to thank them for putting up with my behavior over the past week. I wiped my eyes, feeling refreshed after a good cry, and Jessica sat back down, ready to help me with my problems.

Hannah was understanding when I called off the night's session. I spent the night with my family, enjoying a completely average school night with them, then laying in my bed, reading with my cat, listening to the faint chorus of snores as it twanged its sawing symphony, until the sky began to brighten in my window. Sure, I wasn't productive. I wasn't training, or patrolling, or studying, or anything important. I didn't care. I was home.


	22. Changes 3-2

Changes 3.2

Goodbye, school! Hello, rooftops!

Seriously, augmented movement is amazing. I mean, everyone wants to fly, but aerokinesis was a close second. I could run like the wind, jump like fifty feet, and slowfall or kill momentum just before landing.

Unfortunately, I had been paired with Gallant and Clockblocker for the evening, so our patrol mostly consisted of myself in a scouting loop around the two ground-bound teammates. Needless to say, we weren't finding much to stop. Clock and Gallant were chatting a bit about Gallant's most recent experience in his civilian identities' love life, namely the date he had had last night with 'Vicky'. Not interested.

Another loop. Leap from alley wall to alley wall, get to rooftops. Go a block north, a block west, two blocks south, cross over the duo, reverse for the other side to make a figure eight. I was heading down the opposite end of the look when I heard a commotion down the street. Gesturing to send a 'Possible disturbance' over the comms, I waited for permission to check it out as I sent a burst of fire down an alley to signal the guys what roof I was on.

Sophia's voice came over the comms, sounding bored and robotic. "Permission to move in granted." She sighed as her mic cut out. I hopped over, focusing on keeping myself as quiet as possible, keeping myself lightweight with air cushions. A few blocks over, the disturbance became clear; a pitch-black cloud was coming out of an office building's front doors.

I toggled the switch for sign language mode, and quickly tapped both shoulders while inclining my head upward. 'Parahuman', one of the first words beyond the basics I had learned. I toggled it off, and flipped open the keypad, crouching low. "Shit, who?" came Clock's voice. I typed out 'dark fog' while they ran. 'In office building.'

Sophia came over the comms. "That guy who fucks with my power? Get him!" "Console, you sure…" "Just fucking go, I'm getting clearance! Take him down!" "Alright, fine. Mandala, we're almost there. Get over there and build us some cover?" I did an 'OK' gesture, and took off down the block. I love that gesture feature. So handy.

I landed out front of the building. We had no idea what to expect from this guy, so best not to take any chances. I reached for the magical forest, but guided its growth, forming walls of the blue crystalline rock at the edges of my radius, then jumped on top of the expanse as it grew up slowly.

I stepped down, careful to stay on the radius of control that was slowly expanding around the translucent walls. It was weird having so little in my range, actually. Almost every other time I had used this power, I had been in that area at least an hour already. I had no idea what happened if I walked out of it, but now wasn't the time to test stuff.

The fog was still shifting, pouring out the ajar door. Thankfully, no people were trying to get closer to the scene, although I reminded myself to look confident for the cameras. Finally, Clock and Gallant arrived, panting for breath. The walls were approaching six feet high by now, and there was still no sign of the cape doing this. I gestured at the door with a questioning look, sort of a 'should we go in?' kind of thing. Gallant must have gotten it, because he shook his head.

"We have only the barest idea what this guy can do, and that cloud will limit visibility. Not to mention there may be hostages. It's messing with my emotion sight; I can tell there are emotions in there, but it's mixed and muddy."

Clock spoke up, still sounding a little winded. "What do you suggest we do then? Spread out, or stay here? They could be going out the back, or they might be waiting for us to break up for an easy escape. Your call." Gallant thought a moment, then said, "Okay. Clockblocker, go around the building and freeze any doors. We'll wait out front to apprehend them if they come this way, and you can turtle up if they go for you. Remember, don't get in the black stuff if you can- "

He was cut off as a crash was heard on the side of the building, followed immediately by a huge THUD, then two more that I only 'heard' with my powers. The street flooded in darkness, and I felt the ground thudding as whatever had hit the ground began to move. I let go of the forest as I leapt forward and flung a blast of air into the cloud. I did not expect what I saw.

For a split second, the back end and tail of a car-sized animal were visible. My first thought was 'ankylosaur?' My second thought was 'no, not an ankylosaur, just covered in scutes and spikes like one', and my third thought was 'too bad, I wanted a dinosaur, also geez that was fast'. It had been visible just a second before disappearing into the cloud at fairly high speed. I might be able to run that fast if I really tried, but not through the cloud.

"…And they're gone. Okay, guys, let's check the building. I'll call it in for the Protectorate to chase."

"You didn't get him? Goddammit!..." Stalker did not sound happy as she stomped away from the console.

So ended my first cape encounter in the wilds of Brockton Bay.

-Shangri-La-

The worst part of all this? Paperwork. I hadn't even seen the people behind the robbery, and I had to fill out all the paperwork and reports and stuff that I would have with a (hypothetical) fight with Lung. Minus collateral damage, I guess. I had to debrief too, which amounted to texting my report sentence by sentence so someone could listen to it on audiobook or something. As my dad would say, 'Redundancy is the keystone of bureaucracy.'

An interview with some of the victims had determined that the group had consisted of three villains; they all seemed to be teens based on voices and builds, and the names Regent and Grue had been part of the banter before Grue (according to the witness) had blanketed them in darkness, and they had all shut up. Oddly enough, they had repeatedly cussed out their female teammate, but she hadn't seemed to mind.

As far as the robbery, the trio of crooks had grabbed important documentation, and torn open a few computers for their hard drives, all presumably to be sold to the highest bidder. I learned that the tech industry was actually a pretty profitable theft target; Triton Technologies would be hurting after this. Several projects would have to be rebuilt from older notes, and they were going to do a costly security review.

Frustratingly enough, the group had managed to disappear before the Protectorate had been able to get on site. All we had were the names of the three and the description of something in the fog. We had unequivocally failed today, no matter how little it had been our fault. I didn't feel like a hero, I felt like a bystander who had just let it happen.

-Shangri-La-

I went home, tired of all the paperwork, tired of the running, tired from this feeling of impotence. It was a Tuesday night, but this was the last week before the winter break, so David was the only one with a lot of work to do. Jordan and I settled in for a game of Candy Land, and Mom made dinner. It was a typical night for us, nothing special.

During dinner, I made a point to tell Mom that we needed to talk after, then ate. Conversation started up. I never was much for talking over dinner anyway, and not being able to actually talk didn't help. Instead, I looked more at the little things, stuff I didn't normally register when talking to others.

David was intelligent; not a star student, but a capable learner and an avid reader. He was talking about some of the test questions he'd had today, occasionally dipping into language that left us all nodding along without really understanding. He had few friends, but it was less about being a social outcast and more to do with how introverted he was. David had met Dennis and hit it off recently, although I couldn't let him know who he was; it was hilarious, hearing descriptions of my teammate as a normal person. At least, as normal as Dennis could be.

Jordan was quick to interject in a lull in the conversation, showing off the paper snowflake he'd made today. He was really smart too, but for whatever reason he didn't like learning much. He had an underlying competitive streak, trying to garner my family's attentions with his crafts and test scores.

Mom? She was bipolar. I'd had to look it up, not really understanding the term, after the session the other night, and it had been illuminating. She lived in a world of extremes; some days she had manic dreams, others she lived a nightmare of depression, always shifting, never stable. Just like me, she had trouble sometimes, trouble remembering to be a good mother, trouble keeping her impulsive thoughts under control, trouble I just didn't have experience to understand.

She wasn't as gifted as her sons; our mental abilities came from our father, that much was clear; nor was she a determined, driven person. She'd tried to commit suicide, twice, and failed to overdose both times. But she'd recovered, gotten her act together, and was a functioning member of society, because she loved us.

After dinner, David took up the dishes so Mom and I could talk. We headed to another room. I pulled out my phone, and typed.

'I want to move to fourth grade.'

She was quiet for a bit, at that. Finally, she spoke up.

"You're sure about this? It's a lot of work, and nobody will be your age. Can't we just put you in a gifted program?"

I shook my head. She continued before I could type again.

"Why not? Why do you want to leave your class behind? Your teacher, your friends?"

That hit hard. I motioned for her to stop. Typed.

'Mom, I have no friends in my class.' She objected, before I could continue. "Of course you do, what a terrible thing to say. What about that nice boy, Connor? You went to his birthday party! Or Samantha, she had you over at her house!"

I hadn't been anything more than a party guest both times. Another face in the crowd, invited more by the parent than the child. Couldn't she see that?

No, she couldn't, I realized. I could understand it now; how easy it was to just not notice things when you're depressed, to forget that others depend on your attention.

She tried so hard, but she really knew so little about my problems, because it was hard to recognize that I had them.

"And you already struggle with homework now! You always forget it, and you have the Wards now, and it's a lot to put on your plate. I'm not sure it's a good idea to join up in the middle of the year either, what if they've already covered things and won't wait for you?"

I had to stop her. I couldn't keep track of all her questions like this, and she was just talking down to me as is.

'Stop talking.' She shut up, looking affronted, and opened her mouth for the reflexive 'Don't talk to me that way', but I had to continue. 'Mom, I want this.' 'Jessica agrees, I need this.'

I really wished typing didn't need my full attention. I wanted to look her in the eyes. 'I can do the work, my teachers think so too.' 'I would have less bullies,' 'less stress, less problems.' 'I might actually have friends again.' My eyes felt hot. 'Please.'

"Oh, sweetie, I… okay. I'll see if we can start the process soon. If your teachers are on board, it's halfway done already, we just have to arrange testing. I'll talk to the principal tomorrow."

I hugged her, and we headed back downstairs. Jordan greeted me at the bottom.

"Hey Michael, wanna go out back?"

It was dark, and fairly cold outside. I didn't care at all. I nodded, and my brother and I headed out to play.


	23. Changes 3-3

Changes 3.3

Wednesday night, Hannah and I decided to do a night patrol. She'd been out of rotation a bit, and I didn't feel like staying in a gym all night. It was a little unorthodox, doing such a late joint patrol, but the guys on console duty didn't seem to mind. Must have been a slow night.

We decided to do the coastline; work our way up from the boat graveyard, get some late-night ice cream at the Boardwalk, then check out the downtown area, before looping back to drop me off at home.

So, it was back to the rooftops, doing overwatch, while 'chatting' with Miss Militia via tap code.

Most people were familiar with the idea of Morse code, but for less detailed communication, prisoner's tap was easier to remember, if not quite as fast. My suit translated both, so it was a matter of choice for me; I was less likely to mess up tap vs. Morse.

Morse required memorization of a complex alphabet; tap required visualizing a 5x5 grid and spelling the alphabet into each space, substituting C for K, and using X for spaces. It was still slow, but I could do it without a keyboard, and since it was being translated word by word, I could cut out less necessary letters.

Anyway, we were talking.

"Sounds like you read a lot. What's your favorite book or series?"

Always with the hard questions. What was my favorite book series? I had no idea. 'I LYK ALEF BUCS. HARY POTR AND ANIMORPHS GUD.'

"Animorphs? What's that about?"

'KIDS WIT ANIMAL CHANGR POWRS VS ALIEN BODY SNATCHRS.'

"…Huh."

Awkward silence. It was a weird series, but still!

"What else do you like to do?"

Ah well, another convert lost. I guess books don't appeal too much when you could flip through it and remember every page. I continued the conversation as another loop started.

-Shangri-La-

Our plans were foiled as we reached the Boardwalk.

The ice cream parlor was closed! My mint-chocolate-chip!

Oh, and there was also a cape fight going down. A big one.

In the distance, a figure was glowing like the sun, rocketing around the air over the lower Docks. The figure kept firing blinding, double-helical beams down at something on the ground. We were heading over as quickly as we could, Miss Militia calling for help. Dauntless would probably get there a bit before us, and Armsmaster was on his way from his downtown patrol.

According to Miss Militia's traveling summary, the flier was a cape called Purity. Standard powerful flying artillery. Basically, my job was to dodge the big shiny lasers, while dealing with the other side of the fight as best I could, offering battlefield control to hem them in while Militia took them down and Dauntless handled Purity.

"Normally, we wouldn't allow a Ward to go to a fight involving a powerful cape like Purity. I'm making an exception because I trust you to stay safe and follow orders, and because I expect we'll need help to start. If one of us tells you to fall back, you fall back, okay?" Militia may have sounded calm, but her body language was protective, insomuch as it can be while at a runner's pace.

I gestured 'OK' as I ran. We were almost there now. Purity was raining fire onto the ground a block or two down… and literal fire was raining back up at her alongside a plume of smoke. Oh boy.

"Console, this is Dauntless. The fight is between the ABB and Purity. Lung is already ramping up, I'm gonna need backup fast!" Miss Militia put a hand to her ear. "Militia here, Mandala and I are two blocks away and closing. Focus on Oni Lee for now, I don't want that psycho anywhere near this fight!"

"Understood." She turned to me as we ran. "Focus on killing fires and staying out of the fight. Lung and Lee are dangerous opponents." We crossed the street at full sprint, one more block to go. "I'm going to get to a higher position and try to take out Purity or Lee. If any of them starts targeting you, run, okay?"

I gestured an affirmative, then offered her a hand. She took it, confused, and I pulled her onto the sidewalk slab I was on, and crouched; she quickly followed. With a tug at my powers, I braced and lifted the slab, taking it up the brick wall of the building next to us. She got off at the top, and with a salute, I let the slab sink back to the sidewalk.

One last thing occurred to me; a quick tap of my keyboard brought up the gesture registry, and I quickly made a 'HELP' gesture. Better safe than sorry. That done, I ran to the corner, heading for the crashing and roars of the fight.

I was greeted by a scene straight out of Revelation.

-Shangri-La-

The entire block was an inferno, in the biblical sense. Melting tires on parked cars, smoke billowing into the air, the smells of sulfur and burning rubber and melting tar filling the air. Near the next intersection, a dragon roared at the skies in defiance of the being of light, while a demon wreaked havoc around him. A greek hero with raiment of lightning chased the demon from point to point, but each strike merely turned the man to dust.

I dove into action, raising my hands in front of me, reaching to the flames around me, then exhaling, releasing the energy they held, and bringing my hands down towards my stomach, palms to the ground. The flames around me shrank, the asphalt cooling and crackling as it contracted.

I shot a look at the fight as a resounding _crack_ rang out from above; a Lee clone exploded to dust. Lung threw a huge fireball at Purity, who dodged. It was hard to tell with her glare, but she looked hurt, maybe a broken arm. Not my problem, I had to stop the fires.

I ran down another thirty feet, standing in another ring of fire. Again, inhale, reach, exhale, press. Another look as I cooled the asphalt. Dauntless had apparently gotten Lee, because he wasn't anywhere I could see. Lung, however, was quickly becoming a problem. He had wings, now, and was beginning to lift off after Purity. I looked to Miss Militia's perch- which probably saved my life.

Lee wasn't down. He was behind me. With a knife headed straight for my back!

I ducked and rolled backward between his legs, leaping to my feet and getting into a fighting stance. Another Lee appeared a few feet in front of the first, then he looked my way, and charged. I readied myself-

Shooting, searing pain in my lower back. He was behind me.

The first clone turned to dust.

I gestured for help, and ran.

He followed, teleporting in front of me, and swinging his knife. What was this guy's problem? Also, Owowow, my back hurt. A lot. I didn't think his knife made it through the suit, but it hurt _so bad_. I ducked his lunge. How do I deal with this guy?

Spin, dodge the one behind me. I could barely think. Jump, jump again off the wall, across the street. He _threw the knife at me_. Freaking ninjas. A burst of air to block it. Land, spin, get some fire around myself to hold him off.

A crack, and a clone down. A crack, another clone. He was in my face, and I panicked, shoving him away with fire. He barely flinched as it burned him, his knife digging into my left arm just above the bicep plate, then burst into ashes. I leapt again, grabbing my arm at the pain. I had to protect myself. Had to get out of sight. I didn't have any world that would work, not against a teleporter; even the maze wouldn't stop him.

I dodged a swipe again. Another shot rang out. A thunderbolt zapped past, hitting another clone; a part of me registered that I hadn't felt the bolt with my power. Lee stopped attacking me for a few moments, instead teleporting to Dauntless.

Purity and Lung were clashing overhead. I had to get out of here, get to Miss Militia. I ran down an alley, lifted myself to the rooftops with a chunk of alleyway, and got off. Militia was two roofs down. I braced myself, then jumped the gap. The pain in my back hit again. Definitely heavily bruised. Another gap, a gasp and gritting of teeth, and I was there. She waved me over, still aiming her rifle.

"Cover your ears!" she said. I did, and she fired. LOUD. Next time, I'd jam my finger in the one with no comm bud in it. Oni Lee took a glancing hit to the shoulder, falling away from Dauntless, then another appeared above Dauntless again, now favoring the shoulder. "You okay, Mandala?" I did a so-so gesture. My injuries were bad, but not dangerous. I might be sore for a while, but I wasn't bleeding, thanks to my costume.

Purity was flagging, I could tell. Her left arm was definitely out of commission, and she had some stains of blood and charred fabric on her legs. She fired a parting shot at Lung's face, then turned and fled at surprising speed. "Purity disengaged. Focus on taking out Lee, do not engage Lung. I repeat, do not engage Lung."

Not that that was much of a choice. The wyrm was attacking Dauntless at every turn, even as Dauntless chased Oni Lee. He'd stopped growing so much, but wasn't exactly shrinking, either. Dauntless was holding his own, though; his shield blocked Lung's claws, and his Arclance was getting a few strikes in on the real Lee here and there.

This was a real fight? I was kidding myself to think I was ready for this.

"Ears!" I blocked my ear, covered the other. BLAM – and Lee took a hit to the leg. This time, it took a few seconds before he reappeared, and he immediately collapsed. I did a little fist-pump, then a thumbs-up for Miss Militia; she got him!

Even better, as my hearing recovered, I could hear the rumble of a motorcycle. That had to be Armsmaster. With Lee down, and Armsmaster inbound, I decided it was time to get back to damage control. I leapt off the rooftop, spinning a little to create a cushion of air. Ugh, my arm still ached, and I almost flubbed the landing when my back protested.

Down the street, Lung was roaring unintelligibly, flinging fire everywhere as Dauntless flitted around him on the air.

I sucked up the pain, and ran to the nearest patch of fires, quelling them as quickly as I could while keeping an eye out. Oni Lee may be crippled now, but he was still on the battlefield, and the last thing I needed was a surprise leg-stabbing.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear - God, that was a joke worthy of Clockblocker. In this case, 'he shall appear' right in front of me, knife in hand, ready for a quick, panicked entombment in still-hot asphalt. Teleport that, stabby! I may have done a quick fist-pump in victory. My celebration may have been a bit early, though.

Dragon no like it when his minion gets beaten.

A few things happened at once; Lung roared, flapping his now rather large wings as he turned my way; Armsmaster rode around the cornera few blocks down, halberd raised like a lance in one hand, like an avenging knight; and the commpiece screamed in my ear "RUN, Mandala!"

I like to think I responded well; certainly, I never once lost my cool. I didn't panic, no siree bob, I just followed orders to the letter. I did, however, forget to turn around.

I ran straight under Lung, a torrent of wind following in my wake; I ran right past Dauntless, who was moving to get in between Lung and myself; I ran until I passed Armsmaster, then spun.

At that moment, if it had mattered, I would have been speechless.

I'd just crossed three blocks in a second.

 _I'd just made Lung faceplant into the ground with_ the wake _of my sprint._

Oops.

Utter silence, but for the rumble of the cycle and the crackle of dragonfire, reigned for a few seconds.

Armsmaster sprang into action, leaping off his cycle and readying his halberd. "Mandala, stay back. Don't do that again - unless someone asks."

I nodded, silently memorizing Lung's faceplant with chagrin. Why must my powers continually be bullshit?

Lung dug himself off the street. He did not look happy, and it was directed at me. Don't get me wrong, I got it; I went from a super-firefighter to amazingness after a short break from near-stabbings, and he was the local keeper of both of those titles.

Good God. If I wasn't mute, I'd be a dead man, letting stuff like that slip out. Although, with the way Lung was hurling that fireball at me…

Ohshoot. Stop getting distracted while in imminent danger. I put out a hand, splitting his fire with a burst of air as I brushed away my stray thoughts. He fired another, and I blocked it too. Armsmaster tried to get a hit in, but Lung flew above the launched blade; Dauntless flew above and behind him, but was mostly ignored by the 12-foot draconic figure. He didn't seem to like me not being burned alive, and endeavored to fix the apparent flaw. He hurled bigger, bluer fireballs at me.

Okay, forget staying back. I was tired of merely putting out fires, and unhappy at the dragon who was attacking me for my self-defense against his teleporter. What was I supposed to do, sit back and get stabbed? It hurt, a lot!

I had a thought, and tapped out 'IDEA'. I needed him to follow me, I needed him angry. This time, I turned his fires back at him, adding speed to the already quick projectiles, smacking him in the face. When he looked my way next, I made a 'come at me' gesture. He roared, diving at me, and I turned and ran.

"Mandala, what are you doing?! Nevermind, Dauntless, follow! Mandala, fill us in as you can! Militia, secure Lee." Armsmaster did not sound happy, but I needed to end this stupid fight before someone besides Lung got hurt. I made my way to the rooftops via a series of bricks, getting off the street before Lung reached the corner. I tapped.

'BAY'. I jumped the gap, doused a few fireballs. "What about the Bay?"

'WTR'. Another gap. 'FRZ'. "You… Want to freeze him? Are you crazy? He'll just melt it!" "No, Armsmaster, it might work. Freeze him long enough to escape the fight, he'd stop rampaging." Thank you, Miss Militia! I doubted we could catch him like this, but I could stop him from damaging the areas on the way with fire, and freeze him if we got over water.

"Fine. Dauntless, I want you to guard Mandala. If he gets in trouble, you get him out of there; I do not want an injured Ward on my hands tonight. Mandala, we're going to have words after this. Good luck." I winced. I hadn't really thought about the consequences, had I? Too late for that now.

Lung was still following me, but he was falling back as Dauntless came into view. I flung a fireball of my own at him, orange to his blue-white. It splashed ineffectually against his glowing silver-red scales, but it got his attention. With a roar, he resumed his speed, as did I. We continued on like this for a while, getting closer to the waterfront north of the Boardwalk.

As we reached the water, I ran at speed, staying above the water for a good stretch, but allowed myself to fall in after I made some distance from the shore. I pretended I couldn't swim, drawing him closer to the water. He was laughing, a deep, throaty laugh, Dauntless forgotten overhead; then he spoke. "''ou 'igh' 'e? I AHM LUNG! 'ou wi' 'no' 'ain, bra'!" I didn't understand half of it, but it didn't matter right now; he was close enough, reaching for me with a claw coated in bluish plasma.

I dove.

A jet of plasma heated the water behind me, followed by a splash, but I was deep already, too deep to be touched by its heat. I looked up through the water, the giant form of the Dragon of Kyushu above me. The man said to have fought Leviathan in the depths of the sea, now diving in again to fight me.

Here's hoping this works.

I lifted my hands as he swam at me, then made a clawing, pulling motion, and a nearly invisible shift in visibility signified the ice forming. It was difficult, freezing the near-boiling water around him, but I managed it. Desperate for air, I finished his entrapment, surrounding him in a globe of ice twenty feet across, his titanic 13-foot frame surrounded in singing ice crystal and salt water.

I pushed myself to the surface, sucked in a breath, and tore the heck out of there, basically skating on the water. Dauntless, hovering overhead, quickly flew after me, reporting on the comms. "Mandala is headed to the shore, no sign of Lung yet. We're headed for cover."

No sooner had we reached the shore than Lung burst forth from the water, roaring. He didn't fly away, though; his wings must still be frozen. Dauntless and I kept up our pace, quickly leaving the shore behind, heading back to the battle area at top speed. We needed to clean up and get Lee into custody before Lung made it back.

Somehow, I'd survived my first real cape battle.

I was _really_ not looking forward to the aftermath.


	24. Changes 3-4

Changes 3.4

"What you did was reckless, foolish, irresponsible, and completely against every order you'd been given. Lung is an extremely dangerous parahuman, a known killer, and as you had been warned before you fought him, he is not an opponent we normally allow even experienced Wards to fight. You trampled on the trust Miss Militia put in you by not sending you back to base, and could have died!"

My first meeting with Director Piggot was not going well.

"I am very disappointed in your behavior last night. You are on console duty for the next week, and the only reason it isn't more is because even after you broke her trust, Miss Militia spoke up for you. Am I perfectly clear, Mr. Vanderbilt?" I nodded, numb. I wanted so badly to interject, to explain myself. I couldn't, even if I did have my voice, but I wanted to all the same. This wasn't right. I had caught a murderer last night, and driven off a monster who could have kept rampaging for hours, and I was rewarded with console duty?

I know I had broken rank to do the latter, but what about the former?

Not that it mattered. I couldn't even type it out, since they took my armor, and my phone was in my civilian clothes back at the Rig. I had to sit there and take it.

I was sore and bruised from the near-stabbings, tired from an evening of fighting and running, running and fighting; I was slowly acknowledging the part of myself that had been screaming in terror throughout the chase, that had almost frozen me in terror as he reached for me with claws of silver and blue death; and worst of all, it was Thursday. I had school in two hours, so I had to get from here to the Rig, get my stuff, and get home to change.

But I had to get chewed out first.

Good morning, Brockton Bay.

-Shangri-La-

My first time on console was interesting; learning all the features of the setup, Dragon installing my text-to-speech program (I really needed to do something to thank her for that. Maybe a fruit basket? What do you get someone who can make or buy anything you can get, better?) and controlling the patrols while getting my homework done. It wasn't a hard job.

By Friday, I understood the horror.

The console was so boring.

I had been out on two (or three, counting the Lung fight) patrols so far, on Sunday and on Tuesday; both had seen action, plenty of it.

The average patrol saw action twice, and it was almost always muggings or other violence.

Worse, I couldn't see any of it, and nobody bothered to describe any of it.

Ugh. Five more days of this. At least school was out for winter break after today.

Wait, no – did that mean – more patrols?

NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

A muffled thump came from the desk as my head hit my crossed arms.

"Vista to Console, we've spotted a group of Empire skinheads, moving to stop their nefarious plans."

I smiled a bit, lifted my head, and typed. 'Got it. Good luck.'

Waiting, listening as short, out of context comments filled the channels;

"Duck!" Duck what?

"Take that!" Really, Clock? Who says that out loud anymore?

Meanwhile, I was here, basically just inputting the original calls' time, which would automatically start saving the logs from that time till I typed an all clear. Woo.

A few minutes later, I did just that as Kid Win took out the last of them, then notified the BBPD of their location.

Ten minutes after that, the group continued on their merry way. Like I said, mind-numbing.

I shifted in my chair, settling in for the afternoon. This was gonna be a long afternoon.

-Shangri-La-

Even my training sessions had slowed down – I was now returning home every other night, and we had shifted from pure fighting practice to other, less combat-based techniques.

Don't get me wrong, I probably should learn yoga, but it did not help my boredom much. Maybe tonight would be better. After all, tonight, I was facing something big, something I had been putting off since my first few days having powers.

I needed to go into my worlds again.

Not the overt version of my powers; I used that regularly enough. No, I had realized, after the fights Tuesday, that I was ignoring my potential. I had possibly infinite worlds, and I was letting my fear of myself stop me from using them. I'd been randomly choosing worlds, but for all I knew, next time I might bring out a world of lava, or open a portal underwater and flood a room, or something. I needed to start cataloging them mentally, or I might really hurt somebody.

Hannah couldn't help me in this, but she would watch me. If I wasn't back in 8 hours, she'd take me to the PRT building's hospital until I did wake up. Until then, she'd be waiting here for me, doing paperwork to pass the time.

I sighed, laid down on the floor. I let myself breathe, in, and out, in, and out. The gems made themselves known as I let my barriers fall, and I let one pull me in slowly.

Disorientation.

A sense of wonder, even with my eyes closed.

An urge to stay here, away from all the shit, in whatever world I wished.

I rebelled, hard. I was panicking a little; these were my thoughts laid bare. I thought I was making progress. I thought I was past all of that, had my priorities straight; but now, I was confronted with the truth.

I still wanted to stay here.

I was still trying to escape.

God, I was pathetic. I had all this power, my family was no longer living paycheck to paycheck, and I was feeling more confident. All that, and I still wanted to run away. I didn't even know why. I just… no. I couldn't just sit here and mope. I'd talk it out come Monday. For now, I was just wallowing in fear and self-deprecation over what was ultimately just a passing idea. It wasn't like I'd actually ever try to stay in my worlds.

Would I?

-Shangri-La-

It took me a few more minutes to work up the courage to keep going, but eventually, I got up and took in the world around me.

I was standing on the edge of a cliff. No, a valley, one so steep and deep I couldn't make out the bottom. The land I was standing on was barren, and while I had no problem breathing, the air felt thin. The sun overhead was a bright white, and the sky was dark blue. The surface of this place was a desert.

The valley, however, was a jungle.

Towering trees like pillars of ocher stone, with needles so black they seemed to eat the light, and giant, complex starburst flowers in all imaginable shades. Other trees below, with vantablack fronds like a giant fern, and branches in crimson like the heart of a ruby. I got glimpses of a valley wall of rippling navy moss that shimmered as it flowed, and pinecone-like growths of burgundy. And this was the top layer; further down there was a distinct shift in density of life, and the valley became shrouded in fog further down.

I kicked out a slab of rock, and began descending into the wilds below.

Man, I needed to get a xenobiologist on our local staff. I was more of a paleontology guy myself, but some of this plant life was just incredible!

I was also beginning to suspect some of it was dangerous, too.

As far as I could tell, I couldn't be hurt like this. I could feel, taste, touch, but not come to harm. That said, no less than three different kinds of plants in this valley had tried something; the pine cone plants closed like flytraps, this one flower had released a powder, and the moss had sticky patches, and I know that's never good.

The weird thing was, why? Why be predatory when there are no animals? No insects, even. My best guesses were both weird ones.

Either my power was all imaginary worlds that didn't have to make sense, made manifest by my whim…

Or, it was a catalogue of actual worlds, minus the animal life, and I was sort of… projecting them to ours.

There was always options three and four, namely 'all of the above' and 'none of the above', but those were no more helpful than one and two.

Option five was just Dennis' overused little catchphrase: my powers are bullshit.

Last thing to check in this area was the fog, to answer the question 'What's at the bottom of the valley?' I had a feeling I might dislike the answer.

Yup. Molten lava miles below. A slip on these slopes would be a very long and painful death, one way or another.

Oh well, file it away for a rainy day. On to the next world.

-Shangri-La-

I began to notice other peculiarities as the night wore on. Some worlds were eerily monotonous, just small variations on a theme, while others were even more varied than Earth. Earthlike worlds were present, but not a majority; plants weren't always green, sun wasn't always yellow-white or small, soil wasn't always dirt, and rock wasn't always stone.

I saw a world of rivers, storms, and waterfalls, cutting into the bedrock to one day form huge canyon systems out of the plateaus. I explored a world that seemed to be one giant, abandoned city, made from classical era materials, like a marble metropolis that stretched to the horizon. I visited the magical forest, and found it to be a more varied world. Glowing, crystal clear waters, mountains of jade, obelisks of starry obsidian, wild fruits of all kinds; and small, abandoned farming villages, built for short residents, with fields of navy grains and purple beans the size of my hand; it truly fit a magical world.

My favorite, though, was the crystal world.

I appeared, disoriented, looking down at the ground. After it passed, I took in the fact that I was standing in a field. A field of tinkling glass shards, sprouting from a glowing sand. Weird. Cool.

I looked up.

The view was that of my floating mountains, but translucent.

Rainbows arced through the air, refracted by floating chunks of diamond.

They fell on craggy trees of amethyst and jade, grass of emerald glass, bushes like chandeliers of the finest sapphire.

I could tell, though, that it was all alive.

Not a sculpture, not a crystal version of another world, preserved and made dangerous; alive, in a way Earth didn't know. It sang, too, as the wind flowed through the grasses and trees, as the light hit the trees a certain way. A music, haunting and beautiful in its discord and rambling, an entire world that sang its own majesty.

It was nice, to just stand there awhile, take it in, but I had to move on eventually. The rest of the exploration went well, but nothing quite so spectacular. A few normal forests, a mountain range, a series of canyons; all beautiful, wild, wondrous; but none so alien, so harmonic, as that world.

Eventually, I returned, leaving the wonders behind, wishing- dangit, I still wanted to stay, didn't I? It really didn't help that the worlds tended towards the awesome, improbable, or otherwise awe-inspiring. I needed to talk to Jessica about this.

I sighed. This was going to be a long winter break.

PRT Threat rating change: Mover subrating increased from 2 to 4. Mandala is capable of drastic increase in running speed alongside previously reported movement augmentation.


	25. Changes 3-5

Changes 3.5

Jessica sat across from me in her armchair, stifling a laugh at my actions.

I was showing off my brand-new staff.

I had finally been given a section staff as a utility weapon, after two weeks of design and tinkering by Kid Win and Armsmaster. It had five sections, and each section had a function.

One was a small but powerful antigrav unit, and one a foldout set of wings with popout handles. They hoped I could fly with the wings, and carry passengers when I turned on the antigrav. It had worked, incredibly well at that. I could generate lift simply by the action of grabbing the handles, and get up to fairly decent speeds, even without the antigrav. With it, I was able to pick up Assault and have him ride on my back, and still be able to fly at similar speeds with no major exertion.

Another section was an electrical weapon. When activated, it would deliver a pretty hefty shock, perfect for both normal people and minor Brutes. It had a higher setting for stronger Brutes, but that made it visibly arc, taking away the element of surprise.

There was a section that contained both the battery and controls, which worked by disengaging a lock, then turning several sections of the piece to turn on and off or otherwise control the other sections.

And finally, there was my favorite section; the sky-writing section.

Apparently, Armsmaster had been studying the 'hard light' Purity and Dauntless made, and the fight the other day had allowed him to gather more data from a sensor he had on Dauntless. He'd had a breakthrough, and spent all night creating a persistent hard light generator, then miniaturizing the design.

He scrapped the old forcefield generator he had planned to put in my staff and his halberd, and replaced it with a freeform HL projector. The result: a forcefield generator with multiple settings, lower power costs, and the added feature of not needing the projector active after it was made, instead fading with time.

I called it the sky-writing section, because that was my favorite use of it. I could write glowing words in midair, or turn it on as I flew to draw pictures. I could dial up or down the hardness, change colors, even change its diameter. I basically had a giant glowy paintbrush tool to use as needed. Sure, it had more features, like flat shields, half-sphere or full-sphere modes, and even a really cool HL blade and HL prybar, but it was the persistent writing I liked the most.

Jessica was amused at my minor obsession with it, and supportive, happy that I was happy. After a while, though, I had to come back down to Earth, because I had problems I needed to talk about.

I began with the small bullying events at school last week, just to let someone know about them. It was good to talk out my minor problems, put off the big stuff a bit longer. After that, I told her about my patrol, the frustration I felt after the villains got away without us even seeing them. Jessica interjected with helpful advice throughout, and I did my best to take it to heart.

I told her about Miss Militia's idea to do a night patrol with me, and the fiasco that ensued.

The fear of a murderous teleporter hunting me, stabbing me, actively trying to kill me.

His dead, cold eyes as he reached through my flames, skin burning, knife glinting in the light.

The recklessness I had shown against an even more dangerous foe just minutes later.

The image of that fiery claw reaching for me, how easily it could have gone wrong.

My frustration at the chewing out that had been my first meeting with my actual boss.

My chafing under the punishment, and sincere apology to the other heroes, especially Miss Militia.

Finally, my biggest problem was the last to be aired.

'I decided to start exploring my worlds again.'

"Really? I'm glad to hear you're accepting this aspect of your powers. I was actually planning to ask about it later in the session." Jessica smiled, just a bit of sad understanding in the expression. "It's still hard for you, isn't it?"

I nodded. She was probably the only person who really understood why I didn't like that aspect of my powers, especially once I showed them the projected form of my worlds. It wasn't the beauty, it was me.

'I still get the urge to stay.' 'Every time I enter or leave one.' 'Every time I use one, or think of one.' I felt the pull whenever I let my thoughts drift to the jewels, always just out of sight, and it was like a beckoning finger, trying to lead me away from everything I cared about. 'It's so hard to resist, sometimes.'

"It's okay, Michael. You've always wanted things to be different. You have to acknowledge the fact that you do indeed want to be in your worlds, and stop putting yourself down for feeling that way. These powers are a part of you, and you have to make peace with them, or you'll live your whole life unhappy and depressed."

'So I should spend days inside?'

"Not necessarily. You have to find a balance, especially with things that cut you off from others completely. Just because you want to do something doesn't mean you can do it all the time, as I'm sure you're aware." A pause. "Why not share time with your brothers? Turn your bedrooms into magical forests, go exploring, and if you have problems, just stop? You'd have to let your mother know beforehand, but it would help you have a safe place to de-stress, and also help you learn about your powers."

That… was an excellent idea. I'd be able to have fun with my family, and I could work with shaping and stuff. I would need to check them first- I was pretty sure the valley-cliffs had been full of poisonous plants- but Jordan would love it, and I bet David would too. My mom wasn't exactly an outdoorsy person, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind.

'Thank you.'

"Of course, Michael. Remember, I'm always on call. If you need to talk about something, just text me, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. You don't have to wait for our sessions if something is really eating at you, okay?"

I hugged her, then. She was just too nice.

-Shangri-La-

I'd revised my training schedule. Now that I didn't have school, it was more reasonable for me to spend most afternoons with my family, then make my way to the Rig in costume. Luckily, the Rig was closer to my house than the PRT building, once you stopped counting the water.

Tonight, I wanted to try something a little different. Yesterday, Jessica had made a suggestion, and as much as I loved my brothers, I had someone who deserved a vacation even more.

Hannah and I were in a smaller training room, one unsuited to Bo practice, but perfect for my purpose tonight. I wanted to show off my worlds to Hannah, get more used to exploring with others.

"Okay, but don't remove the door. We don't know what would happen if someone opened it, but from my experience it'd probably be disorienting for everyone involved." I nodded, typed 'Ok, don't move,' then reached for the crystal world and pushed softly.

The jewels swung into view, the crystal world centered just below my gaze, both visible and completely transparent. The changes began with my chair, turning it to crystal, then a change seeped across it, turning the floor padding to sand, then growing blades of emerald, except around our chairs and feet. I replaced her chair, then bid my power to project onto the walls rather than replace them. All other furniture fell away, and moments later, we were sitting in a field on chairs of quartz, music filling the air around us, with a door standing nearby to show us the exit.

As I was doing all of this, Hannah had just been enjoying the view. I looked to her, and she had her eyes closed, smiling, listening to the breeze and its music. After a few moments, she turned back to me. "You know, this is only my second time seeing one of your… dream worlds. I didn't really understand, last time, why you termed them that. I think I do, now." Right, last time I had done this with her, it had been the inside of a space-warped maze. I typed.

'I wanted to show this one off first.' It was insanely beautiful. 'I wouldn't recommend getting off our chairs, though.' Sharp grass. 'Let me find another.' I decided to show her the mesa world. We couldn't move around much yet, only an area about 40 feet across, but it should be enough.

I picked it from the ring, pushing it into the place of the crystal gem. The world blurred, features smoothly sinking and growing, the sky shifting. Then we were atop one of the mesas, a view of the sea in the distance, monoliths surrounding us. The sky was still brilliant banded gold, the bluestone monoliths coated in the sparkling lichens and etchings being cast in a bright sepia by the light. Our chairs shifted to bluestone as well, with seats of cottony purple plant fiber.

"I just… it's like I'm dreaming." She collapsed into her seat, overwhelmed. I sat down next to her. "Michael, I haven't dreamt in so long. Even when I do, it's always that day, those things. This…" she swept her arm out, encompassing the view, "…this is wonderful." We sat there awhile, just enjoying the majesty of this nature. If she cried, I paid it no mind.

I was such an idiot. I was looking at these worlds, these infinite possibilities, and all I saw was a way to escape my problems. They could do so much more. Here I was, helping someone be happy just by showing them a glimpse of their beauty. I was blinded by my own hang-ups, when I could be helping people like Hannah, like my mother, just by sharing this with them.

Once she had recovered, I decided to try something more. Maybe it was selfish, but the more I thought on it, the more I realized I needed to know. I waited a few more minutes in silence, letting her enjoy the view; eventually, I pulled out my phone, and she turned to me as I typed.

'I've never used my powers to their fullest.'

She looked to me, puzzled and slightly worried. "What do you mean?"

I typed. 'I was scared, that I might not come back.' 'Would stay in my power.'

She looked more worried, now, but I had to press on. 'I think I will, now. I want to try.'

"Try what? Michael, please, just slow down. What are you going to try?"

'I want to try another aspect of this power,' 'I might be unresponsive for a bit.'

I looked her in the eyes as I hit the speak button. 'But I need to know what I can do, to help people.'

She looked like she was going to object, but changed her mind, then slowly nodded.

I silently thanked her, and Jessica, for being so understanding.

I let my resistance disappear, let the jewel before me pull me in.

And I knew the face of God.


	26. Changes 3-6

Changes 3.6

Indescribable complexity. Untold potential. A sparkling spring of existence.

I lost myself for a time. Or maybe, the world lost me.

It didn't matter.

What was one world in the face of this?

There were so many worlds, far greater than anyone dared imagine. Countless Shangri-las, Edens, Everests, El Dorados. Paradises. Lost wonders, dreams made manifest, legends wrought into reality. A sea of wonders, a circle unending, a song unbroken. A self-recursive fractal of demesnes.

I knew every stone, every grain of sand, every leaf. Every whisper of wind, every clattering of rock, every clap of thunder. Every glimmering rainbow in each drop of dew.

A singularity of everything, known, unknown, and unknowable.

Unimaginable, in the universal law kind of sense.

Infinity.

I lost myself, or maybe the world lost me. It didn't matter.

-Shangri-La-

I saw the face of God, and knew it infinite.

Infinity was a pretty good poker player.

After all, they kept a straight face while mortals tried to comprehend it.

I had a royal flush, in hearts. The King stared at me, his dagger piercing his head.

There was a feeling. Like something wanted me to act. This hand was garbage anyway.

I folded, and pushed away from the table.

-Shangri-La-

A king, focused on one of many billions of precious stones in his collection. A vast cavern, walls of night sparkling in the light, cast by the fire of two entwined wyrms of gold and white. The king paid no attention to the mismatched pair, instead studying the endless facets of his collection.

The king overlooked his collection, gaining impressions of them all, but his attentions were mainly focused onto the one gem pinched between his fingers. It gleamed in the golden light, and under the magnification of his jeweler's eyepiece, he could see every feature, every flaw.

A glint of light rested on one point, reflected off the light from the gold dragon's fire. The king turned the sapphire, and the glint shifted to another microscopic facet. He looked closer, and within the glimmer, there was a scene.

Resting on the surface of the exquisite stone, amid a forest of tree-shaped stones, near a flowing river, a boy sat, slumped, on the ground. A woman, katana on her back, was shaking the boy, her cries too distant to make out for the king. Nearby, a door stood, leading nowhere. No, not nowhere… a building. Familiar.

A jolt, as the two serpents shifted, shaking the cavern in their immensity. The king almost fumbled the jewel, and when he had brought it back up, the facet had moved. The boy and woman and door were now floating in the ocean.

The boy would drown, like that. The king wanted to help, and so turned the jewel again. There, back on land.

Why did the king feel so relieved? This was but one stone of his immense collection.

If he brought it closer to the light, he would be able to see more, but something stopped him.

What was the door? Why so familiar?

He looked again, the sheen having shifted once more.

A field of bluish-purple grass, with ominous blood-red flowers as large as the figures.

The boy, lying prone, unresponsive.

The woman, frantic, shaking the child, slapping him. The katana disappeared, replaced by a holstered gun.

The king knew her.

I knew her.

-Shangri-La-

I woke up. Hannah was shaking me, shouting, but I couldn't quite pay attention to her words. She did calm down, though, after I remembered to open my eyes. I had vague impressions of a poker game, a treasure room, an endless garden. I was soaking wet, vaguely cold, distantly aware of the grass tickling my ears.

I was distracted from all of this; my jewels were all I could pay attention to at the moment.

I could tell what each one was, now. It was like they had a mental dossier attached, giving information, except the information was less words and more concepts of terrain and life and all sorts of little details, and I couldn't close them. I knew them all as if I had treasured them for years, and there were so very many of them.

In the center, this place, the place I once called the mesa world, but which had so much more than that, was so detailed it seemed to fill my vision. I could tell where we were, where other things were. On the surface, above the equator, us, surrounded by a shining point surrounded by a less bright circle.

My area was huge. I could guesstimate it was almost the size of the Rig again. Luckily, I hadn't spread my control elsewhere, not even over the door. I finally pushed it a bit aside, trying to focus in on Hannah. It was hard to focus on myself, but I sort of automatically began to sit up.

I felt really… dissociated from myself, like I wasn't really connected to my body. It reminded me of that floaty feeling I got sometimes; where, for a moment, everything would seem distant, detached; where it felt like everything I did was just something my body was doing, without conscious input. I felt like that, but even more so. Clenching my fingers showed that it wasn't delayed movement, but it was a weird sensation.

As I moved, she turned to me, hair hanging damply around her shoulders. "You're back, good. Are you okay?" I nodded a little, still distracted. "Good. Now, first off, never, ever do that without supervision. Secondly, you got lucky; I managed to grab your phone when you dumped us in the ocean, and your phone is waterproof.

"Thirdly; you and I are going to sit here, and you are going to tell me what the hell that was, because the past hour has been less of a dream and more of a nightmare."

An hour? I simultaneously felt as if it should be more and less time passed. Nevermind. I owed Hannah an explanation, and had to focus on that. I took the phone when it was offered, but a thought struck me as I reached to type. I gestured, and the water was sucked out of her clothes, then mine, and chairs rose from the ground. A part of me noted how quickly they came at my command, at least twice as fast as before.

Now dry and seated, I decided to push away the jewel. It was about then I realized something had changed.

I couldn't make it go away. Not entirely. I couldn't reject the pull from the jewels, only resist it, or let my power go away entirely. No more blind picks, but now I felt… removed from everything. Hard to focus on anything besides my power, the deeper I went. The worlds were just so interesting…

I remembered again why I was trying to reel it back. Needed to answer Hannah, needed a clear mind. I let the jewels recede out of view; my mind ceased to be distracted by information, and my focus returned as the room grew back around us.

The implications of my visions hit me again as my head cleared. I had just accidentally sort-of-comprehended infinity, and almost lost myself to it. I had just nearly killed us both, by accident, and without even realizing I was myself.

I had been gone. Out of commission, a vegetable, in an even worse way than I could have possibly thought.

I would have been comprehending infinity until I died of exposure, if not for Hannah.

I checked the time on my phone. 11:37, good. Late, but not too late.

This needed to be a group discussion.

I called Jessica, and put her on speaker once she picked up.

"Hello? Michael? What appears to be the problem?" Hannah was looking worried and confused again. I typed.

'I just had a power-related crisis.' "Oh. Phone kind of crisis, or face-to-face?" '2nd one, if you can.' "Sure. I'll head over in a bit, grab some coffee for me if you can?" I smiled. 'Sure. At Rig, Miss Militia joining us.' "I'll meet you in the lobby in thirty minutes. Get me a double expresso mocha latte, if you would. I'll go get ready now, see you in a bit, okay?" She hung up. I turned to Hannah.

'I'm so sorry, I didn't know it would be that bad.' 'That was Jessica Yamada, my therapist.' 'I really don't want,' 'to explain what just happened twice.' She nodded sympathetically, but when she spoke, her voice was quiet and forceful.

"Michael, I was worried about you. You weren't just unresponsive, you were changing the environment, and the look in your eyes… I was afraid, you understand? What you did was far from reckless, but it felt no better than that moment where you just took off after pissing off Lung."

She put a hand on my shoulder. "I just want you to know that I care about you."

I just sat there and took it. She was right on every front. Again, I had barely taken into account just how powerful I was, and how easily I could hurt or help others with it. After she finished, I typed two little words.

'I know.'

-Shangri-La-

After Jessica had received her coffee, we retired to a nearby room, and I filled it with a forest, setting up a basic campfire on the night side of the planet. It was a little distracting, having the jewels out, the information, but I needed a little distraction right now; still, I kept a tight rein on it, keeping the distraction as minimal as possible.

I had gone and fetched my costume and staff, donning the undersuit and left forearm so I could use its basic functions. I didn't bother with the mask.

I'd also grabbed chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers. Therapy food.

So, while we ate s'mores, I began to describe my powers in detail. How I always had these extra sensations, throughout the day, all the time. Hannah (she unmasked) had likened it to her weapon, its constant, reassuring presence.

'No. It's more like music, and a pull.' 'Elements make symphonies for me, and I dance along,' 'guiding them and commanding them,' 'bending them to my intentions.' 'But my worlds? They pull.' 'They invite, they entice, they draw the eye.' 'Normally, they only pull a little.' 'When I push them into reality…'

"It gets stronger, doesn't it? And when you let them pull you normally, it puts you in that state like we've been practicing the last few sessions," Hannah finished. "So tonight, you let it pull you while it was being used, because you hoped it would be helpful?"

I mean, when you say it like that…

"What happened tonight?" Jessica asked, looking to Hannah.

"Michael here was showing me some of his worlds, much like this. A few minutes into it, I got a bit emotional, and after that, he pulled out his phone. I could quote you word for word, if you'd like."

"Please."

While she did that, I made another s'more.

"…And he fell over, started seizing, and went unresponsive. The area around us started shifting, stuff growing and shifting like it was alive. Over the next hour, I kept trying to wake him, especially after the terrain stopped shifting.

"The only indicators he was alive were his breathing, heartbeat, and occasional shifts to entirely new terrain. At one point, we were dumped into an ocean, and I had to keep him afloat until the next shift. Eventually, he just came back, looking more like he was waking up from sleep than suffering from brain damage, made some chairs, then called you up."

"Well, that's quite an ordeal, and certainly makes me even more curious about what happened." She held up a hand before I could begin typing. "Hannah, I want to make a few things clear before we really begin.

"One, this is a therapy session, however impromptu. By staying, you are implicitly agreeing that Michael has a safe place here, free from judgement or ridicule, implicit or explicit.

"Two, Michael has a right to communicate. I will not interrupt him, nor cut him off, and will not tolerate you doing the same. If Michael is typing and you wish to interject, wait until he has finished and get his attention.

"Third, Michael is a member of your system, but anything said here is not under that jurisdiction. Unless anything he says leads me to believe he is a threat to himself or others, any information he shares is strictly confidential, not to be repeated outside this room without his explicit permission, even under direct orders. Anyone who punishes you for disobeying such an order may themselves be punished, thankfully. If you can't agree to those terms, I must ask you to leave."

Hannah took but a moment to decide. I typed.

'So, I said the jewels pull.' 'When I use my power, I can't really tell' 'where on a planet the area will be.' 'I figured if the normal pull showed me the worlds,' 'the stronger one would too.' They nodded. 'So I let it pull me in. What I didn't expect,' 'was for it to show me all of them at once.'

They listened, but I don't think that last sentence really hit them yet. I continued, 'I mean all of them. Infinite worlds.' There's the dawning comprehension.

I have to say, typing things out is easily the worst part of being mute. It takes way too long to describe anything, especially when it's concepts. I mean, just typing 'infinity' doesn't really capture the mind, unless you've seen the sheer depths of finite existence already.

A year ago, I had found out a fact after going to a concert, and seeing what a thousand people looked like. People are notoriously bad at comprehending scope of large numbers. A thousand people was huge; a thousand thousands was more, but it felt less more than it should. A thousand, thousand, thousand, thousand was a trillion, and at that point, it's just a word.

Infinity sounds like just another huge number like trillion, instead of so unfathomably unending that trillion was literally infinitely smaller than infinity. If they were to understand what had happened, they needed to, not comprehend it, but at least understand what it is to imagine infinity, then imagine being lost in that endless abyss of everything.

After that nightmare of description, there was the strange, dreamlike scene of a king in his treasure room, then finally the reconnection to myself. The little things I had noted, how my powers were improved, but I noted the world less, lost focus. What I had originally expected, or at least hoped for, but twisted to be simultaneously more dangerous and more enticing. After I had finished, Jessica was stoic, and Hannah looked lost in thought. Eventually, the former of my two listeners spoke up.

"I'm going to be honest, Michael. This story sounds crazy, even for a parahuman, even to me. And my job is literally to help parahumans deal with their mental health. I have to believe it; you're not someone who strikes me as being not of sound mind, not even after a story involving you playing poker with infinity."

She paused a bit, sighed. "I'm sorry, Michael; that was not something I, as your therapist, should have said." I waved it off. She was right; it sounded insane. "Thank you, but I'll still try to do better in the future. How do you feel, after all that?"

I considered it. I had been scared of so many things before, but honestly, they felt so small now. If my powers could throw anything worse my way, I'd welcome it. I understood infinity today, and my brain didn't melt to sludge. All my other problems… just seemed small. Easier to deal with.

'I feel different.' 'I'm not worried about anything right now.' I still had problems, but it was easy to let them go. For now, at least.

"And how do you feel about using your powers?"

That was harder. 'I need to be more careful with them.' 'But, I'm not as worried about them.' 'My powers are a part of me. I can accept that.'

"That's right. Your powers are here to stay, and by accepting that, you can really start to move on to a better mental state of health. I believe you've had a breakthrough tonight. You faced your fears, and when they fought back, you pushed past them, and came out of it a stronger, and hopefully happier, person. It's not an easy process, and I wouldn't have done it in a way even resembling this, but I'm proud of you."

Hannah just put an arm around my shoulder. I put another marshmallow on my skewer.

We sat around a campfire for just a bit longer, enjoying the peace.


	27. Changes 3-S

Changes 3.S

"C'mon, get inside before someone sees!"

"Okay, okay! Geez."

It was a crisp, cold night, the moon fat, but not quite full. School had just gotten off for winter break, students celebrating tonight by hitting the town, flooding theatres and clubs and street corners. All the popular kids were out tonight, playing to their people, except two.

Sophia Hess and Emma Barnes were returning to school early.

They had plans that needed to stew.

"Look, Emma, we've gotta stay quiet on this. I didn't scout for guards or anything, but if we get caught, it's on you to bail us out, got it?"

Emma sighed. Sophia hadn't been as happy about this plan as she would have guessed. It was a perfect way to show Taylor what they thought of her; she was used up trash, weak and worthless. Originally, Sophia and Madison had both been on board, but Madison couldn't come tonight (She was vacationing over the break), and Sophia was… something was up with her.

"Look, I'll be quiet, okay? Ugh, this stuff stinks already." She crinkled her nose, and Sophia sneered. "Smells like Hebert." Emma giggled a little.

They crept through the hallways, quiet as they could without using Sophia's powers. There was indeed a guard or two, still patrolling the halls, probably watching more for vandals than anything. They'd stop patrolling soon, as the break grew longer; nobody broke in after the first week or so.

They reached the row of lockers. Taylor's was in a good spot for the prank; far enough away from the office and other teacher facilities, just out of the main corridor to get to classes. Perfect balance of safety from teachers with humiliation from passerby.

Sophia reached into the locker with a shadowy hand, opening it, as Emma broke out the masks and gloves. "We're gonna need some showers after this." Sophia phased back, nodding. "We should use the ones here, less chance of getting caught."

What was with her? Sophia was a predator, not prey, but she was worrying about getting caught a lot more lately. Emma mentally shrugged. Sophia might be losing her edge, but she was still strong, strong and fierce. Maybe carefulness could be useful for the predator. Besides, the sooner she got this rancid stink off herself, the better, even if it meant using the shitty locker room showers.

They donned the masks and gloves, then untied the bag. Even through the masks, the stench was unpleasant, fishy and bloody and laden with acrid ammonia. Emma couldn't imagine how bad it would be in a month. It would be their greatest prank ever.

They laid their disgusting mess into the metal locker with haste and care, not wanting any of it on their clothes. Taylor had left her textbooks in the locker over break, which just made it even better. Emma smiled widely beneath the mask, just imagining poor weak little Taylor's reaction to this. She'd probably scream, and beg, and cry.

Emma imagined going to class with her in there, the feeling, knowing she was acting normal while that weakling cried again, just like the week after her mother had crashed. How Taylor would finally be pushed far enough that she'd either accept her place or fight back.

She wondered, if Taylor fought back, if Sophia might let her join the group.

Sophia said that if Taylor could just laugh at the little pranks, stand up to them, that she could be strong. But she hadn't. She'd gone from a person Emma couldn't be, to a person she wouldn't want to be, a worm in the dirt.

Somewhere, deep down, Emma hoped, with each prank, they would get that reaction. That Taylor would show some backbone, and that they could be friends again. But the part of her that hoped that grew smaller, frailer, every time she sat there and took it, every time she got emotional.

But this time, she would react. She couldn't not react, it would be too horrible not to. She'd react and Emma could be friends with her again, with Taylor stronger for the experience, like she was.

And if she didn't? Then fuck her. Fuck her for being such a loser.

Their task done, they headed down to the showers by the gym, and washed away all evidence of their deed.

-Shangri-La-

Predators don't worry. To worry is to care, to have something close to you. Predators don't need closeness, and to care is to be weak. Weakness makes a useless predator, one incapable of acting because they had things to worry for.

No, predators don't worry; instead, predators are cautious. They step lightly, because the prey will scatter if they break a twig, or another predator may notice them and try to steal their kill. They avoid other predators, because they don't want to risk injury when they put the other predator down.

Sophia was being cautious.

She'd originally loved this plan; putting Hebert in her place in such a fashion really showed how strong Emma had become. That mood had helped her coast through the next week of Wards BS, had come just in time to take her mind off of that bastard who called himself Grue, who messed with her power in a way that just felt wrong, and the console duty she had received for no particular reason afterward.

Really, who could blame her for her mood, or for getting pissed off at their new member's appearance? Vista was bad enough, with her little crush and her whiny little attitude; she thought she was so tough, just because she had powers, but she'd never really been a hero. Never been on the streets, hunting down skinheads and rapists and drug dealers with no backup or kids gloves on.

Seeing a kid from some daycare in a dinky little mask, she'd drawn the obvious conclusion that they'd have more dead weight, more whining, sniveling brats to babysit on patrol.

Then Michael had turned out to be a fellow predator in the making, ruthless and calculating in combat. The little guy had a boring personality – really, who wanted to wait five minutes for every answer? – but he definitely had fighting instinct. He was cold when it counted, and hid it better than her. Powerful, but hidden behind a veneer of weakness.

It was a pleasant surprise, one made more pleasant by the fact that he wasn't old enough to perv out every time he saw her, unlike some of her so-called teammates.

But a few days after that, everything had gone to shit.

For whatever reason, the Wards were going to be doing an anti-bullying campaign next semester. Sophia had automatically assumed they had something on her, but when nothing happened, she'd stashed away her bugout bag and acted normal. No more risking extra patrols; no more of the non-approved bolts. She had to act like a good girl while in costume.

Unfortunately, she couldn't tell Emma to call the prank off; the girl might see it wrong, think her weak, and Sophia didn't want to have to correct that.

She wasn't worried, but she wanted to be cautious, needed to be careful, if they wanted this prank to go off without a hitch. She'd checked the dates for the seminars; luckily, the Winslow date was the 10th, the Monday a week after they returned. It would have been a very bad idea for them to prank her on the same day as the event, or even a few days before it. A week seemed long enough that any ripples should die down.

She smiled to herself as she imagined it. Emma stifling laughter as she talked about the 'evils of bullying', Hebert's face in the crowd; these things would make the whole boring exercise worth it. All the laying low, the careful planning, would be worth it, after that.

Hebert would be in her place, and Emma would be a real predator at last.

Hebert was a perfect target for Sophia; as Emma had told her, she was a flake, a crying, shallow, weak, and boring person. Hebert had never fought back, never showed even a hint of predatory instinct. She just ran away, hid, whined to others about her problems, cried. She was prey.

Prey needed to know its place. The alphas fight for dominance, the others stay out of the way or get bitten. Like attracts like, but the top and bottom were singular. Sophia was the alpha; strong, determined, powerful, heroic; and Hebert needed to accept she was the bottom, weak and powerless and supplicant, instead of trying to claw her way out of the hierarchy.

After their shower, they snuck out, tossing the bag, gloves and masks into nearby dumpsters. They headed home in the dark, Emma by bus, Sophia on foot.

-Shangri-La-

Sophia approached her house, slightly out of breath after a long jog. Her track team might be a cover, but at least it had benefits. Better than tutoring, that was sure.

Her house wasn't in the greatest of neighborhoods. Stonemast Avenue was dark, with sparse streetlamps, right on a border between the ABB and E88 territories. Kind of a run-down area with scrubby lawns and remains of good gardening, and occasionally rusting trash and stone that may have once been lawn ornaments. Her own house bore signs of housing her four-year-old sister, in the form of various toys left around the yard.

Two cars sat parked in the driveway, one an old but reliable silver minivan, the other a broken-down, blue, somewhat rusty muscle car.

Steven was home.

Well, that killed her mood. She resolved to sneak into the house with her powers, slipping into her window on the second floor, and climbing into bed. She hadn't eaten, but she'd just have to go downstairs later and see if there were any leftovers.

She lay on her bed a few hours, listening to the sounds of her family and Steven moving about. She read a little, listened to some music, but generally kept quiet. No need to draw attention.

The walls of her room were covered in the trappings of a teenage girl's life; posters of her favorite bands and singers, a bookshelf full of fantasy novels, and a mirror on her dresser/desk, half obscured by photos of her family.

Her mom, tired but happy. She worked two jobs for them, and while she'd never admit it aloud, she respected the hell out of her mother for it.

Her brother Terry, star of his senior class, athletic and charismatic. A predator like her, and he had even figured out her secret on his own.

Her loving little sister, Sarah. The little 3-year-old was adorable, and even thinking of her brought a smile to Sophia's face. She wasn't old enough to be strong, but Sophia knew she would one day.

Emma. A survivor, strong, a fighter. A friend, one who stayed by her side. They'd each saved the other's life, and fought back when it counted.

Absent from every family photo, save for a hand or arm, was a fourth figure. Darker skin than the rest of her family, with neatly kept nails and strong hands. No torso or face, just jagged, angry cuts to remove everything that wasn't her family from the photos.

Steven wasn't family, no matter what her mom thought.

Hours later, after everyone had gone to bed, she snuck downstairs. She'd memorized the floors, dodging every creak and groan, padding as softly as she could without her powers. The fridge contained painfully little, but there were enough leftovers to sate her, even if she did eat them cold.

She headed back, but paused at the foot of the stairs. A whimpering sound was coming from Sarah's room.

She opened the door. Sarah was on her bed, tossing and turning, blankets everywhere. Sophia rushed over and gathered her up, rocking her. She woke up slowly, and clung to her sister as she did.

Sophia murmured to her sister, calming her from her nightmare, cradling the little girl and rocking her, wiping away her tears, making little sense of the few mumbled bits of dream Sarah tried to describe, but still being there for her. She stayed like that for almost an hour, the warmth of her sister's fragile young body in her arms.

It reminded her of that day, months ago, when she had held someone in her arms, trying to drag them from the water, get them to safety, get out of this hellhole. Their fragile body limp, and cold, the waves red.

After she put Sarah back to bed, she went back upstairs, and she cried herself to sleep.

A/N: I plan on posting a second Worm fanfic this week, probably Wednesday. Keep an eye out for it.


	28. Changes 3-7

A/N: For those not following me, my second fic, Tarantism, is on SB and FFN. It's gotten really positive feedback, so I definitely recommend checking it out!

Changes 3.7

The world was changing. Snow was pouring down after an unseasonably warm late fall, the few trees were reduced to brown and tan brushes, interspersed with majestic firs, stoic in the cold. Brockton Bay was coated in a deep, comforting blanket of white.

I kind of wished I was still on console, and I was the lucky one. At least I had some minor cold resistance. Poor Clockblocker couldn't keep himself warm.

"I've been on this team a year, and they still don't have a warm costume for me! It's freezing out here!"

Oh, stop complaining. I'm the one being used as a combination handwarmer and street cleaner.

Aegis flew overhead, and his voice came over the comms. "I don't know Clock, I feel great. Not a shiver in sight."

"Screw you and your adaptable bullshit," he said amicably.

I just swept another section of street clear of ice with a handwave. Clock rubbed his hands over the fireball cupped in my right hand, still chatting as we walked.

"I mean, I could have a Christmas costume. Maybe a white sweater with clocks, some mittens, warm, non-form-fitting pants…"

Kid win spoke up from console. "Congratulations, Clock. You're about to gain a surge in popularity on Parahumans Online. Just gotta make a thread real quick. Let's see…"

"No, Kid! Please no!"

"…'Clockblocker's Christmas Wish-list'… fluffy, cheesy sweater… Santa hat… mismatched mittens… and done."

We all had a laugh at Clockblocker's moan of despair.

"I'm never going to live that down. Kid Win, I hereby declare us nemeses! May the prank war escalate to mutually assured destruction!"

Aegis interjected with barely a moments' pause. "I'm officially throwing my support behind Kid. Geometric Tinker beats linear timestopper in a prank war, every time."

I made a motion to second that. No idea what Aegis meant, but it sounded like a better bet.

Clockblocker groaned, rubbing his hands over the provided flame again. "No respect for my genius."

"You mean loveable idiocy?"

He brought his hands to his heart, clutching an imaginary spear through the chest while yelling, "Aaagh, my dignity!"

More laughter across the line. I cleared another section of street, smiling at their antics.

"Heads up, we've got a reported disturbance over near Lords and 10th. Get moving, I'll fill in the details." Aegis swooped in and picked up Clock, and I whipped out my staff and took off. Goodbye, street clearing.

"Armored truck is under attack by a parahuman whose description roughly matches Circus. She's a grab-bag cape; hammerspace, pyrokinesis, enhanced aim, balance. Expect acrobatics. Clown-based costume. Generally, uses a sledgehammer or bat."

"Got it. ETA 2 minutes."

"Acknowledged."

We flew in relative silence for a minute, passing over the neighborhoods of the lower Docks at speed. We came up on a small section of offices and shopping, and Aegis angled down. I followed. Below us, on the street, a figure was approaching the truck, which had apparently spun out.

She was dressed in a green and red elf costume, with outlines of silver and white fur. It looked kind of cold, with so much skin showing. Still, had to give it to her for being festive.

Clockblocker let out a quiet whistle.

She looked up, just in time to see us land between her and the van. I noted the guards were behind her, groaning in the street. I put my staff away, for now, but left it assembled. I wasn't good enough yet to use it versus a skilled weapon user.

"You're under arrest, Circus. Stand down."

She smirked beneath her silver domino mask. "You know, I don't think I will." She looked my way. "You guys his sitters? Didn't know the Wards were a daycare service!" She cackled a bit. "Anyway, move aside, pipsqueak squad. I have a date with that truck."

I didn't like that, but Aegis spoke up again. "I'm going to have to ask you to surrender. We can't let you steal this, and the men you've attacked might need medical attention. Don't make this a fight."

She seemed to consider it, then shrugged. "Fine, I'll just go then. Take care of these losers." She turned away, waving, and Aegis moved forward to check the two men.

Before we could react, she did a backflip, spun, and slammed him into the pavement with a sledgehammer. "Psych!"

Clock shouted something, but I was already in action. Asphalt folded upward to capture her, but she dodged with barely any effort. I kicked some wind her way, which did manage to catch her off balance, but she recovered way too quickly, landing like nothing had happened.

"Ooh, tricky! You almost got me there!" She leaned over and blew a kiss at me, dodging a flying rock like she barely noticed it. "I love the forward type, but you're too young for me."

Clockblocker snickered.

This wasn't going well. Aegis was back up, but for obvious reasons, kept going down as he tried to get close. Clock couldn't do anything, and while I could probably get her, I didn't want to risk the two drivers behind her.

She pulled a road flare from somewhere, twirling it acrobatically, the fire remaining in the air far longer than it should as it moved. Soon, she had a whip of red fire, fizzling as she cracked it in the air.

Clock muttered over the comms; "Fighting an elf dominatrix on the first day of winter. Dreams do come true!" Kid snorted. What the heck was a dominatrix? Another word for villain, maybe- it sounded evil enough.

Aegis said, with a smile in his voice, "Okay, Circus, we have you surrounded. Give up, please. We don't want to hurt you, and my injuries can still be waved from your record."

"Excuse me, who has the fire whip here?"

I threw out my hands, forming whips of fire and snowmelt, which trailed to either side of me.

"Oh. Neat trick." She looked a bit put off by that. "Still, I'm not gonna just give up. Come at me!"

I threw a water whip; she dodged, flung the fire whip at me, and I wrapped my fire whip around it. We struggled over control of the fires, but she had to give up as I struck out again with the water whip. Her whip fused with mine, and the road flare disappeared to her pocket dimension.

Aegis flew in, and Circus dodged a haymaker. Her hammer appeared, and I took my chance. I grabbed the hammer with my water whip, dispelling the fire so I could 'grab' it with both hands, and pulled it from her grasp.

"Nonono, my hammer! Fuck you!" She flung her hand out, and throwing knives flew forth, trying to hit me. A casual handwave ruined their flight, and they fell harmlessly to the ground. I passed the hammer to Clockblocker, who, getting the idea, froze it in the air.

She screamed. "Fuck you, I liked that hammer!" She dodged another pass by Aegis. "It's got just the right feel!" She summoned her whip, and frontflipped out of the asphalt shackles I tried to make. "I wrapped the grip myself! You know how long it's gonna take to get a good replacement? Agh!" She screamed in frustration.

She pirouetted past a hit from my whip, ending up on the far side of the street from the truck and its slowly recovering drivers. Then, she produced a smoke bomb, and threw it, shouting, "Cocksuckers. I'll get you for that!" Aegis and I tried to chase, while Clockblocker stabilized the drivers, but she'd gotten away. We asked one man walking down a nearby street if he'd seen anything, but nothing. It was like she disappeared.

We returned to the scene, unharmed but unhappy. We'd been in a perfect position to capture a villain, and she got away. Aegis probably felt worse than I did; today was his first day as leader of the Wards, and it was marked by a loss.

"Okay, Mr. Thomas here is conscious, but suffering from a broken leg; his associate, Mr. Davis, is unconscious with a head wound. I suggest you guys ferry them to the hospital, while I wait here for the PRT." Wow, that had to be the most serious I had ever heard Clockblocker.

"Okay, Clock. We'll- "CLANG. We all jumped a little, as the sledgehammer fell out of the air. "…be back soon. Hold down the fort."

-Shangri-La-

"A staff-based weapon is an extension of the user's body. By using the principles of one of the most basic simple machines, the lever and fulcrum, you end up with a weapon that both extends your reach and multiplies your force."

I nodded, following Armsmaster through the motions.

"Your hands are fulcrums, the point around which the staff must pivot, and also force inputs, giving the staff the power it needs to move, the force for it to amplify or direct. By using different hand positions along the shaft, you can choose how you wield it."

Hannah snorted. "Sorry, you just reminded me of an old Aleph movie."

Armsmaster thought about it, then shrugged, and continued.

"Staves are great nonlethal weapons, capable of scaling with conflict all the way from aggressive but fairly harmless attacks all the way to blunt force trauma and bone breaking. They work well with physically weak users, although height can be a bit of an issue. I'll have to adjust my training to compensate for this, but I think we can manage.

"The bladed staff is a derivative of the halberd, which itself is a combination of axe and spear. It is a versatile combination of cutting, cleaving, and stabbing weapons, good for any situation where lethal force is needed. I don't personally use one because I can build multiple functions into each blade, but I put a hardlight blade in your staff's settings in case you are unable to use your powers, such as if a powerful Trump is in range of you."

More nodding. I was aware that Hannah probably didn't need to be here, and was glad she was. This would be even more awkward without her.

"Okay, let's try another set." He raised his halberd, or rather the haft of his halberd, and moved through the motions for a series of jabs. Hannah and I copied him a few times as he talked.

"Note how the power comes from the back of the staff, and your front hand is a guide for the force, directing it efficiently into the target. By concentrating force into the small area at the end of the staff, you get more for the force you've put in. In my power armor, I could punch through a brick wall easily with such a strike, and still have enough force to knock out a target on the far side. Michael, you should, if I guess correctly, get good feedback from your terrakinetic powers with this movement."

"Okay, on to the next one…"

Armsmaster was a lot like me. He was intelligent, but neither of us really knew what to do with people; we just kind of said what we thought, with mixed results at the best of times. It was honestly kind of refreshing; he was someone who I could just understand, with no need to really try to puzzle out what he was thinking. We'd even bounced some power ideas back and forth, although I probably needed to learn some more science before I could talk tinkering with him.

I followed his motions, a spin to deflect long projectiles like spears and arrows. Definitely a good move for, well, probably every element, in one way or another.

Armsmaster was a solid contender for the second-greatest tinker alive, and a part of that had to do with his specialty. He made things smaller, more efficient, and much like myself, he liked optimizing everything. Much like how he could make something work with minimal parts, at minimal size, everything he did needed a purpose. A conversation needed to convey a meaning, an explanation should explain in detail, and a moment of free time meant something was wrong with his schedule.

When I thought about it like that, it kind of worried me. Jessica was always telling me to take time for myself, spend time with others, socialize. Maybe Armsmaster was what could have happened, with my schedule so full of training and school and everything. As far as I knew, he had no family, barely went home, and led a whole team of heroes in his spare time, on top of tinkering and sleep.

He was close to Dragon, right? Maybe, when I finally got to meet her, I could see about getting them to spend time tinkering together. At least that way he wouldn't be alone. Or maybe set him up with Jessica as a therapist, see if she could help him calm down a bit.

I filed that thought away for later, focusing on the training once more.


	29. Changes 3-8

Changes 3.8

Christmas shopping was one of those things. Simultaneously the best thing ever, and confusing as heck.

Toy shopping? Amazing. Surprises? Awesome.

Toy shopping for surprises, with the people they were meant for? Not nearly as fun.

I mean, how was I supposed to be surprised by the Nerf guns, when I was the one picking them out? What wonders lay inside that familiar-looking parcel of patterned paper?

I guess I had an advantage, being unable to exclaim in the traditional fashion. I wouldn't have to sound convincing, at least. Unfortunately, that meant my mom's weird obsession with mailed thank-you cards would finally bear fruit, since I couldn't express my thanks verbally.

Ooh, that one looked interesting. An action figure of Chevalier, complete with functioning cannonblade and real cutting action. Then again, I could get my Wards discount if I got it from the gift shop. I passed it by.

Cape merchandise held a special irony with me, these days. It was fairly common to see something Protectorate branded in school, except now I knew I was part of that system. Someday, I might fight alongside some of them, talk with some of them. Soon, I might see my own logo in the halls.

Hey, an RC hovercraft.

-Shangri-La-

Christmas Eve. The day before the traditional day we celebrated the birth of one of the most influential figures in history, at least before parahumans began to appear. A day for family, for heavy meals and snowball fights.

Personally, I planned to live up to that ideal, if not in that order.

 _Whap!_ went the snowball as it crashed against the back of David's wool cap. He spun, searching for his attacker, just in time for Jordan's well-timed volley... which was not nearly as well aimed. 'A' for effort, though. He returned fire, using his 7 years of experience to their fullest, but it was to no avail.

I was cheating.

Snowballs are really easy to make and throw when you can control ice. I can even make it look natural. The perfect blend of soft and compact for optimal throwing. David soon was forced to retreat, hastily erecting a wall to hide behind.

But I didn't factor in one thing; Jordan was a dirty traitor, who tended to side with David.

I now had freezing cold snow down my back, and I couldn't just remove it with my powers (too public), and it was so cold! The traitor was running off with my stockpile of perfect snowballs, right to my enemy, and I was helpless to stop it.

I finally untucked my shirt, allowing the freezing snow to escape, and proceeded to dodge the hail of return fire. A few shots still hit, mostly because they had been thrown wide. I had to finish this fight fast, or it could get messy. Our snowmen might get injured!

I charged their way, ducking snowballs as they depleted the plundered ammunition. As I got within ten feet of them, I leaned down, gathering two forearms worth of powder, and leaped over their fort wall. Jordan received his forearm via air delivery, but I gave David his directly, knocking him and myself into the snow, sputtering and laughing.

I started making a snow angel, and received a face full of snow as they took their revenge.

-Shangri-La-

 _"Sleigh bells ring, are you listenin'? …"_

"So I tell Dennis to stop goofing off, and he just gives me this look, like this," David made a face, "and holds it just long enough that I think he might be really angry. I stare him down, trying to stay serious, and we both just crack up at the same time." He laughs, and my mom joins in. I smile, and Jordan keeps scribbling at his coloring sheet.

"You should bring him over sometime. I'd like to meet him."

"Really, I can? Would you mind if he brought his game console over?"

"No problem, we can find something else to do."

I smirked a bit, wiping it off my face as David gave me a look. I imagine Dennis would be thrilled to come over. I wonder if he would unmask, or if I'd have to pretend not to know him the whole time, and what hijinks might ensue from that.

"Sorry for the wait." Our waiter walked up, carrying a massive platter. "Bit busy tonight. I'd like to offer you a dessert on the house, to make up for it."

"Oh, thank you! I'll have to see what you have."

He smiled briefly, then served us. I got a refill on my root beer.

Wow, that was some good mac and cheese. Too bad we couldn't eat here every night.

The table settled into a comfortable symphony of forks, knives, and various sounds of eating. I traded half my shepherd's pie for some chicken alfredo, but hoarded my delicious cheesy goodness for myself. The meal was delicious.

Afterward, we got two molten lava cakes with egg nog ice cream, and each ate half, and my only regret was that I didn't eat a whole one. We vowed to return to this restaurant, but left sated.

-Shangri-La-

If there's one thing I really disliked about Brockton Bay, it was the distinct lack of good wilderness areas nearby. There was a small mountain north of the city, but after that there were no state parks, no lakes, no exceptional forests, for dozens of miles.

So, it was a fair treat to find that our plans for Christmas Eve included driving halfway across the state to go to a forest of lights.

It was almost as beautiful as one of my nicer worlds, and all the more special because it wasn't. Because I could still focus on my family, with no more distractions than usual.

Jordan's face, bright and happy, pointing everywhere, letting out 'oohs' and 'aahs'.

David, tall and smiling, the light glinting off his glasses as he walked in silence, sipping a cocoa.

My mother, Aurora, framed in lights, genuinely enjoying the antics of her youngest son without a hint of distraction or annoyance.

The trees, laced with lights of all sorts, glowed and shimmered and danced in the chill quiet of the night, dark bark contrasting with the snow. Soft music played in the background, and the moon, while not quite full, was still quite fat and bright in the sky.

Deer made of sparkling LEDs pranced through the trees. A nativity made with loving care and lit by soft, warm glows stood in the snow. An immense, three-dimensional sleigh led by nine reindeer was paused in midair over the path. Stars and celestial lights were simulated throughout, stark against the dark depths of the forest beyond.

It was magical.

My phone rang.

I dug it out. Who could be –

No.

No, no, _motherfucker_ , no!

My mom was looking back at me. I had stopped walking, staring at my phone, clutching it.

"Michael?"

I held up the phone, showed it to her as she walked over.

"ENDBRINGER ALERT: BEHEMOTH SHOWING ACTIVITY UNDER AFRICA. ALL PROTECTORATE AND WARDS REPORT TO BASE."

She read it, and her face fell.

-Shangri-La-

The ride back was quiet, subdued, and well over the speed limit.

For most of the ride, nobody talked. As we approached the exit, though, I pulled out my phone. I had to tell her.

'I'm going to go.'

She gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white, her jaw straining.

'I can make a difference. I'm strong.'

"You're not invincible!" she yelled. "You're just a little boy, my little boy! You're eight years old, you-aren't-ready!" She punctuated the last three words with punches to her horn. "This isn't some kids game, it isn't anything like the Wards. This is Behemoth, the Hero-Killer, the black devil! He's killed hundreds of capes, millions of people! He's an _Endbringer,_ in the most literal sense there is!"

I knew that. 'I'm scared too.' I was just a child, but I had power. I would use it, maybe make a difference for once. Behemoth was terrifying in a way Lung couldn't be, but I couldn't just sit back and watch the whole fucked up disaster cycle go on.

'But, I'm going. I want to help.'

She stared forward, watching the road with an intensity I hadn't seen in her eyes in a long time, not since the last time Uncle Rick had come to the house, when she told him never to return.

"I know I could stop you. I could deny permission, and they would leave you here. You don't understand how much I want to do that." She paused, lips pressed tightly. "I know you wouldn't forgive me for it, but maybe you would understand." Another pause. My brothers wisely kept their mouths shut.

"You can go, but be careful. We expect you back for Christmas dinner, okay?"

I nodded. We got on the downtown exit.

I dug out my phone, texted Hannah to let her know I was almost there, and sat back into my seat.

As we pulled up to the back entrance of the PRT building, I tried to think of what to type. I had so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to do, and now, in what might be my last moments with my family, I had no words. My fingers just twitched above the glowing screen, constantly aborting attempts at words as incorrect, or not enough, or too far off the mark.

The screen turned off, and I sighed, and slid it into my pocket. No goodbyes, no words seemed right for the feelings I had right now. I got out, and they followed. We walked down the alley in silence, a mockery of my inability to talk.

Suddenly, I was swept up in a hug, then two more. I put a hand up, resting on my mother's hand, warm in the chill of the Christmas Eve air.

The moment was interrupted by the high voice of my younger brother. "Kick his butt!"

I huffed a quiet laugh, wiping tears from my eyes, as I stepped through the door.

-Shangri-La-

They were waiting for me on the roof. Shadow Stalker and Clockblocker, most of the Protectorate, save Triumph and Dauntless, and Panacea.

"Okay, we're all here. Strider is scheduled to arrive in five minutes, so let's go over the basics. For those of you unaware, Behemoth is capable of bypassing Manton limitations at a range of 32 feet. We call this his Kill aura, because while he does not instantly kill anyone in it, he has the ability to, unless they are resistant in some way.

"For safety's sake, those of you on search and rescue should try and remain outside 200 feet, and even attackers should only venture to about 100 feet from him, unless they are invincible to it, like Battery is for short periods. Mandala, the PRT is unsure of your resistance, so stay outside 100 feet if you do attack.

"The seismic readings indicate South Africa as the target. Be careful here; the Apartheid policies of the South African government do not apply during a crisis, but tensions are high, especially across racial boundaries. Do not rise to the bait for any comments made; we are under truce."

A resounding _crack_ rang out as Strider appeared on the helipad, clad in a blue and black costume.

"Express to Johannesburg, now taking passengers." He said dryly. "This everybody?"

Armsmaster nodded.

"Right." _Crack._ "Good luck, then." _Crack._

We were standing in a tent, halfway across the world.

Behemoth was minutes away from surfacing.

 _Shit._

* * *

A/N: And here's where I drop the bad news. Updates are going to slow down, at least for the next arc. This is mainly to help facilitate the rebuilding of my completely exhausted backlog of material, which I have been relying on for several updates now without inspiration to replace them. I have an update to finish the arc, but then I only have half of the first chapter in Johannesburg. I know, it's a dick move to do this, but I just couldn't find time or inspiration to write, and Endbringer fights take research to do well.

New update schedule will be Fridays, starting this week. Hopefully, I can rebuild the backlog over the next month or two, and twice-weekly updates can resume next arc.


	30. Changes 3-B

Changes 3.B

The monster was born Thanksgiving Day, 1992, at the wish of a man with no equal. It had gestated, a weapon without form, for much longer than that; but its birth was on a Thursday, its creator and shaper a mortal man.

It was formed on his base desires, shaped by his darkest fears, built to be a weapon so archetypal and recognizable that none need be convinced it was anything but a target to be fought. It was granted intelligence, but little will, and no true desire for anything, save to adhere to the rules laid down for it.

Attack important targets, according to a schedule.

Give those who would fight a chance to defend.

Respond to any threats with escalation of conflict.

Retreat after a certain number of escalations of conflict, or when the target is destroyed.

Never kill the master.

He (the monster had no need for gender, but took some pleasure in archetypal things; among these was the concept of masculinity) was born in the heart of the earth, to a cacophony of sensations. There were great, slow currents of mantle, flowing like liquid even as it remained hard and unyielding. Massive crystals of various minerals, larger than a hundred of himself, though not nearly so dense. A rotating core of iron and other metals, radiation pouring out from the immense natural dynamo.

He could feel the entire planet through its vibrations, know its people through their electromagnetic communications. He would learn about them. He would find a target, and make his appearance, just as commanded.

He gathered information, tunneling through the depths of the planet, through garbled snippets of radio waves that he gathered and translated, through vibrations that originated from the surface, and from the faint link to the creator. Finally, he chose a target. A large mass of hydrocarbons was being mined by the surface-dwellers, and destruction of the location would cause ripples throughout their society.

He began to approach the surface.

-Shangri-La-

He stood among a field of broken bodies, a hellscape of death and despair. He had followed his instructions, without question, and now briefly gazed upon the result.

A female surface-dweller slammed into him, and he automatically responded with a gout of fire. This one could not be burned, nor shocked. She came for another pass. He caught her fist on his right arm, redirecting the force into a tremor in the earth, causing other surface-dwellers to stumble.

He took advantage of the moment, driving forward, implacable, and incinerating two more, then flinging lightning at a third and fourth. The unburnable one let out a vocalization, driving toward him again, and he let her hit him, then beat her out of the sky.

A beam of white-gold light stuck him, and it burrowed deep, the strongest blow yet. He turned his head to face the diminutive figure; again, not a necessary action, but it made him seem more like them, inspired fear through their perception of body language. The attacker was a male, clad in shining golden metal, maneuvering through the air using waves of pressure emanating from his back.

This would require a response.

He widened his mouth, and caused the air to vibrate with kinetic force. A roar. It tore through the air, making closer surface-dwellers clap their hands to their ears, then collapse as their organs began to rupture. The golden figure backed off, unable to counter the attack. His parting shot swung wide.

He strode on, unstoppable, letting the roar cease, and batting aside those who dared defy him on his way to his goal. He had little time; another escalation, and he would have to retreat, 'beaten'.

He created another bolt of energy, and advanced.

-Shangri-La-

The beast slept in a room of glittering crystal, lit by the glow of mantle from the hole he had made burrowing in.

It had been three years since his birth, and the cycle continued. His last cycle had been rather plain; the humans had been able to fulfill his quota of escalations fairly quickly, and the target had been left undamaged. He had retreated as ordered, ready to collect more data and find a new target for the next cycle.

As he burrowed, he had sensed himself tunneling near one of the many pockets of gas and liquid that filled the mantle, and by whim, had decided to detour inside. A tweak to the stream of a convection current, which would form it into a more turbulent flow, causing earthquakes, and he detoured.

The pocket was what could be called, by humans, a geode, if said geode was the size of a Great Lake. His tunneling inside had doomed the structure, a fact of which he now regretted somewhat.

He did not see, not in a traditional sense, but he was aware of the electromagnetic spectrum, and the range of spectra between x-ray and microwave radiation was rather exceptional in its use of revealing that which his seismic senses could not; color and reflectiveness, clarity and iridescence.

These crystals were beautiful.

The crystals varied in geometric pattern, with pyramids, cuboids, hexagonal pillars, and more. The violent azures and reds reminded him of his fires, the glow of the infrared reinforcing the impression; the greens and yellows and whites reminded him of his targets. The spires and pillars radiated and fanned out in fractal patterns, some thicker than he, others thin and spindly, barely thicker than the finger of a human, but long and sharp.

He stayed dormant for a time, allowing the geode to collapse around him over the course of a week or two. It would pass from his memory in time, but not soon.

He continued onward to the core, once more collecting information.

-Shangri-La-

He was awoken from his data collection by a feeling from the creator. It was a change.

A new schedule. A new weapon.

He wasn't sufficient. The master had left all other directives intact, but now there was another.

He began to gather information again, now searching for the new arrival, that which he now shared the cycle. None were found; was there some mistake?

He waited till the next cycle, searching for the seismic tremors that his attacks generated.

He felt seismic activity, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't like him.

The seafloor shook with its arrival, as he understood.

Archetypal.

As one took the hells, another would rule the oceans.

After its cycle, he tried to communicate with it. A tremor in the seafloor below it; a burst of radiation; no response. They could not communicate, or the new arrival had no interest in doing so.

He went back to the core, not understanding, but unquestioning. It had a target to determine.

-Shangri-La-

It was time.

He cracked with lightning, releasing a massive bolt as thick as himself at the base of the volcano. It fried any matter it touched in the intervening mile, reducing entire buildings to slagged skeletons, and instantly killing a dozen fighters.

This was for show, of course; he was merely adding energy in this way to inspire fear.

The volcano rumbled, its well of magma now superheated and ready to burst. With a gigantic cracking sound, the entire side of the volcano exploded, and a massive flood of millions of tons of rock and fire blew into the air and the ocean.

The incredible mass of debris caused a huge wave to form, and the clouds of sulfurous gas and burning pumice began to dim the skies. The wave would devastate coastal communities throughout the Pacific, and the island would soon be buried under hot ash.

He burrowed as the humans fled. His target had been achieved.

-Shangri-La-

Another one of his kind, another change in the cycle. This one was easy to find.

If one ruled the hells, and another the waters, then the 'heavenly figure' described by the human's communications was surely the new one.

He studied the images they broadcasted, as he had for the one they called Leviathan. A figure, almost human, surrounded and shrouded by wings, floating over a city.

A tremor, out of place, very close to him. A shiver, a few sudden shifts, another tremor.

A greeting. Unlike Leviathan, this one could communicate.

He responded, a counter-greeting, a question of purpose.

It responded with a strange shake which he took as… humor. Purpose was obvious.

The cycle of destruction must continue.

He watched the communications as the new one attacked, and saw the aftermath. The fear it inspired with its tactics, how well its new methods could enhance the adherence to their directives. How human emotion and mental fragility could be used to further the impact of the cycle, a tool even more potent than simple devastation.

And he learned.

-Shangri-La-

He speared a human on the jagged spikes of his claw, blood sizzling against his burning outer layers. A bolt of lightning took the human's teammate as they ran, and they collapsed, smoking and dead.

The unbreakable one slammed into him, and he allowed himself to be knocked off his center of balance, stumbling back from the blow. The body upon his claw slid off, now lifeless, and fell twenty feet to the ground below.

He turned, following the tiny figure as she flew, ignoring the blasts of a weak beam attack from a fair distance away. Behind him, he sensed the one crafted of unbendable energy, and deliberately failed to dodge the beams as they struck his back. He roared in a semblance of pain, clawing at the giant ice crystals that had formed at the impact site.

Suddenly, without warning, he was pulled downward by a great force. All attempts to redirect it failed, and it severely hampered his ability to move.

The effect let up, and he broke his stance, charging forward. Lightning charged forth from his claws, taking two more victims. The effect slammed down on him yet again.

He turned to face the source. The one in the green-light garment.

He couldn't kill that one, but needed to respond to the threat.

He caused his skin to emit a glow, and simultaneously began to emit gamma radiation. It would sunder the area, make it uninhabitable, but those that lived might still receive treatment, the green one among them.

He strode onward as they fought, unaware of their quiet doom.

-Shangri-La-

Years had passed. Cycles had gone on, long and short, successful and unsuccessful. The time had come for yet another attack, another day of death and despair.

He burrowed towards the surface, his actions beforehand now rote. Alter a flow here, build pressure there, cool an area, and he had a series of earthquakes forming. They would obfuscate his target, spread defenders thin; that advantage might lead to greater chances of achieving his targets.

He reached the crust, and the tremors followed close behind. He slowed to a much more sedate pace, allowing a new ripple of minor earthquakes to go unnoticed within the cluster of major ones. Homes would be shattered, villages collapsed, but it would not be very deadly; he was not trying to cause mass devastation, after all, just focused devastation.

He saw the snippets of radio waves, understood them to be rallying cries. He maintained his sedate pace, slowly approaching the surface, giving them time to gather, but no time to plan.

Soon, he reached the surface, climbing out of the tunnel and collapsing it behind him. He stood up, towering, and breathed flame into the humid morning air, releasing a roar which echoed for miles around.

Johannesburg lay before him. He strode forward, and began to glow.

* * *

A/N: Alternate title: Enter the Demon

You would not believe how hard it was to make this chapter. Only part that flowed freely was the geode bit.

Also, this is the first interlude I've ever written where the goal is for you feel absolutely no sympathy afterward.


	31. Omake - How Assault Saved Christmas

Note: This is a completely non-canon omake. I figured with the psuedo-hiatus, you guys deserved a bonus update, especially since it's Thanksgiving.

Omake: How Assault Saved Christmas

"Please describe, in detail, your memories of the events on December 25th, 2010, in Johannesburg, Gauteng Province, South Africa, for the record."

"Well…"

 _Yesterday, 0600 local time._

Assault and Battery were en route to the area of the staging ground for combat capes, where they would be mass-teleported by Strider as Behemoth surfaced.

"Ugh, It's too bright here. It's winter, why is the sun already in the sky?" Assault complained, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the morning sun.

Battery huffed, obviously admiring his perceptive skills. She was so cute when she did that. "First off, It's summer here. Southern hemisphere. Second, it's 6 in the morning, so of course it's sunny already. Sorry, but when this is over, I'm collapsing into bed."

Assault skipped backward in front of her, wiggling his eyebrows while grinning wildly. She would notice the creasing around his visor and on his forehead and put it together in 3… 2… 1… She punched him, as expected. "I meant to go to sleep, you…" he missed that last bit, flying upward to exaggerate the blow. He landed on one hand, and flipped back over, walking next to her.

 _Present Day_

"Is this entirely necessary?" asked the interviewer, her face stoic.

"You did say to describe the events in detail." he remarked.

"Please skip to the events concerning the incident with Behemoth."

"Fine, skip to the good stuff, got it. So I was fighting…"

 _Yesterday, 0732 local time._

He wiggled his butt, settling into the hold he had around Battery, holding her curled form much like a giant shotput.

"Go," she commanded, and he dutifully tossed her up, then kicked the ever-loving shit out of his beloved wife, punting her at the massive form of Behemoth like a glowing blue surface-to-asskicking missile. A bolt of lightning lanced at her, but she just powered up from it, glowing brighter as she struck the bastard with a haymaker, then kicked off his stumbling form. Assault was already moving, flying like a rocket to catch her as the invulnerability wore off, then kicking off the ground to get back to a safe distance.

The armband rang out a message. " _All forces be advised: an unknown object is inbound towards the city at extremely high speeds. It cannot be filmed or tracked, but is not Scion. All non-brute fighters should retreat until the situation is clarified."_

Well, that was ominous.

 _"Objects' ETA is ten seconds."_

He carried Battery behind some cover, keeping an eye on Behemoth as she charged. 7… 8… 9…

"HO HO HO! MERRY CHRISTMAS!"

Behemoth was passed over by a brown-and-red blur, from which the stereotypical phrase rang out. A moment later, he was knocked flat as a small red object that had obviously been thrown from what had to be _a sleigh_ impacted his head. At the same moment, a deafening BOOM sounded, which Assault recognized as a sonic boom.

The tiny, serious part of his brain whispered, _how the hell did I hear the ho-ho-ho?_ , but it was drowned out by the other part of his brain screaming _OH MY GOD SANTA FUCKING CLAUS JUST DECKED AN ENDBRINGER._

His life was complete.

 _Present Day_

"So, you automatically assumed it was a mythical figure?"

"What the fuck else was I supposed to believe? He flew in on a sleigh and decked Behemoth with a goddamn present at multiples of the speed of sound! It sure as hell wasn't Scion!"

The interviewer hmm'd, before gesturing for him to continue.

 _Yesterday, 0737 local time_

"YOU'VE BEEN NAUGHTY, BEHEMOTH!"

Again, Greatest. Moment. Of. His Life.

Another present was dropped on the Endbringer, slamming it into the ground with what was obviously immense force. Assault almost winced in sympathy, until he realized what exactly he was wincing over. Instead, he let out a cheer, egging on Santa- and wasn't that the weirdest sentence ever.

The sleigh pulled up next to Assault, who took a moment to stop squealing in joy who calmly, expertly assessed the situation as his wife stared, jaw slack under her mask, at the scene.

"You," spoke the gentleman in festive red and white, like a storybook drawing made real, "You have much Christmas spirit. Come with me."

Those moments just kept topping each other.

He glanced to Battery, and St. Nick said, "There is not much time. She will be safe, for she is a good girl."

He climbed into the sleigh, shooting his partner an apologetic smile. She was, indeed, a good girl.

 _Present Day_

"Describe the man."

"Fat, Caucasian, pure, snow-white hair, reddened nose and cheeks, voice like Sean Connery ate and gained the powers of Morgan Freeman. Wearing a red coat with what seemed to be an arctic fox-fur liner, and smelled faintly of peppermint and fresh snow, although I have no idea how he managed to smell like an odorless substance, beyond saying 'magic' or 'powers'."

"…olfactory…hallucinations…"

"Riding a red sleigh, pulled by a team of nine reindeer that, I swear to god, laughed at a few of my jokes. The one at the front had a glowing red nose- not some light implanted in it or anything, just brilliant red, like a giant nose-shaped laser diode."

"…altered animals…possible master rating…"

 _Yesterday, 0739 local time_

"These Endbringers have been a blight upon the earth for decades. I have sat, in my shrouded workshop, for many a decade, watching the world grow less and less joyful, weaker in their faith. You are not always a good boy, but your sheer joy, even in the face of insurmountable odds, is commendable. I need spirit like that if I'm going to drive this monster away this Christmas day."

"Anything you need, St. Nick."

"How good are you with moving targets?"

Assault grinned. "Pretty good."

"Perfect. Man the present launcher; we have an Endbringer to drive off."

 _Present Day_

"Present launcher?"

"As far as I could tell, it just fired presents. We were just firing extremely heavy presents, at extremely high speeds."

"Hmm."

 _Yesterday, 0745 local time_

This, right here, was by far the greatest moment of his life, save his wedding day.

THOOMP!

Hit!

THOOMP!

Hit!

Present after hyperdense present slammed into the titanic form, hammering it into buildings as they passed by at Mach who-gave-a-fuck, Father Christmas at the reins to keep the loops tight and fast. Other capes watched from afar, a menagerie of impressions to be whizzed by.

Lightning struck the sleigh repeatedly, but did no damage to either quadruped or biped or flying conveyance. At some point in the past few minutes, a blizzard had blown up, conveniently limiting any flames at about perfect hand-warming temperature, by his estimation, which he gathered as a fireball flew past.

THOOMP!

Hit!

Behemoth hit the ground, but this time, he did not rise.

THOOMP!

Hit!

Behemoth was driven into the ground.

"Now, son! Throw the sack at him!"

 _Present Day_

"The sack?"

"His sack of presents, the ones for all the good boys and girls in the world? What kind of person doesn't know about Santa?"

"I would remind you not to cast aspersions on the interviewer's person," replied the interviewer.

 _Yesterday, 0747 local time_

Assault handed the cannon to the jolly old saint, turning around to grasp the neck of the giant velvet bag- which didn't budge an inch.

He pulled harder. Dug in. Tried redirecting a bit of the sleigh's forward momentum into lifting it.

"It won't move!" he shouted over the wind. "How do I lift it?"

"You've got to use-" THOOMP! "-Your Christmas spirit!"

Assault understood. He thought of all the times he'd volunteered at schools. He thought of all the people he'd saved since becoming a hero. He thought of the good times, before his trigger, when his family was still whole. He realized that, for billions of people, Christmas would be ruined by this attack, this reminder of death and despair.

The sack moved. He lifted it above his head, leaning out over the edge of the sleigh. He yelled to Santa. "Hold on!"

He redirected all of the momentum, all of the force generated by the team of magical reindeer, the sleigh, the occupants, into the bag. The sleigh, in an instant, went from going well over Mach 10 to a dead stop; the bag, now accelerated to a frankly ridiculous speed by the concentrated kinetic force, slammed into the figure of Behemoth, cratering the ground, and driving him deep, deep into the earth.

As the echoes of the deafening sonic boom faded, there was silence.

For several minutes, they hovered over the massive crater, watching for any sign of the monster. Slowly, from the other gathered capes, a low murmur began to rise, then someone cheered.

At some point, Assault found himself on the ground, receiving a pat on the back from Legend, surrounded by other capes, their praises too thick to make out. He only had eyes for one thing. In the background, he caught the eye of a beautiful woman in a skintight suit, one patterned with glowing blue circuitry.

He waggled his eyebrows, grinning madly.

She put a hand to her forehead, but he knew she'd laughed.

 _Present Day_

"So, you have no idea how you got from the vehicle to the ground, nor any idea where this mysterious person went?"

"Oh, I expect he went to the North Pole. Even if he wasn't actually Santa, he was playing the part so well that I'd be disappointed if he didn't."

"Uhuh."

He stretched, yawning. "Well, if that is all, I'd like to go home. It's been a long night."

"Of course. Thank you for your cooperation, Assault. This has been enlightening,"

The interviewer tipped her fedora, the only defining feature to distinguish her from a robot, and motioned him toward the door.


	32. Imbalance 4-1

Imbalance 4.1

"This way," came a voice behind us. As a group, we turned, following a cape dressed in a rather bright yellow costume with white accent stripes. He led us over to a table at the entrance of the large tent we were in, and began passing out items to each of us.

"Radiation pills in the foil packet, wristband communicators, and a basic map of the surrounding terrain. We're pretty sure he's coming straight towards Johannesburg. Armbands will guide you to the main groups. Instructions for wristband use on that board over there," he pointed at a poster in between this and another tent, "and good luck out there." He turned and headed back toward the big pad of plastic in the middle of the tent, and we strode out with our items.

Armsmaster spoke up. "Okay, everyone on search and rescue, with Velocity. Everyone who is defending, with me. Attackers, with Battery, and Panacea, head for the medical tent."

God, everything was moving so fast. I still had to figure out how I was going to swallow this horse pill. I walked over to Armsmaster, looking over the instructions for the wristband, and finding them unfortunately reliant on verbal commands. I was gonna be pretty much screwed if I needed something important, I could already tell.

Armsmaster looked at myself and Clockblocker, and gestured for us to follow him. "This is your first Endbringer fight, the both of you. I won't sugarcoat it; Behemoth is powerful and exceptionally deadly, even for one of these monstrosities. Clockblocker, you will mostly be creating barricades to protect tinkers, who will be creating larger, if less physics-defying, barriers to slow him down. Mandala, you'll be defending him, and supplying material."

I found a public fountain, and we quickly stopped to swallow down the giant radiation pills.

"I'm going to assist the tinkers however I can, so Clockblocker, you're in charge. I cannot stress enough the importance of the truce rules; it doesn't matter how despicable the person is, unless they are fighting other capes or otherwise using the Endbringer as a distraction, you are not to pick a fight. Am I clear?"

"Crystal, sir." Clockblocker's voice was once again tinged with iron, completely serious for once in his life.

The ground shook again, a basso thrum to my senses. The distant echoes of rolling thunder came from the ridges to the north. If not for the quake, I might have mistaken it for the thunderclouds on the distant horizon, but the armbands confirmed it a moment later. A hundred tiny voices in a half-dozen languages sounded, but the ones closest to us said:

 _"Behemoth has surfaced in grid AH-4, heading due south. Currently emitting radiation."_

I pulled my staff pieces off my back armor, snapping them together. Taser, useless. Antigrav section was high priority, so straight in the middle. Hardlight would be useful for weak shielding, but I was kidding myself to think it would hold. Glider was high priority, taking the other end section.

Clockblocker looked up from the map, his body language tense. I took a moment to reach up and put a hand on his shoulder as I leaned in to look.

"Okay, from what I can gather via wristband, we need to head to the northern section of the area known as Parktown, meet up with a team of tinkers that are currently en route."

I nodded, pulling my hand off his shoulder and flashing him a thumbs up. I worked the staff controls, popping out the wings and firing up the antigrav, and gestured for him to grab on.

"Fuck, we should have practiced this more…" he commented as he grabbed onto the upper handholds. "Okay, let's go."

I lifted the staff, now nullifying his weight, and took a running start, ignoring his yell of exhilarated fear as we took off the ground.

-Shangri-La-

Johannesburg reminded me of Brocton Bay, strange as it was to say. It had no sea, no ports to speak of, and yet, the division between rich and poor was so clear it might as well have been drawn in marker.

Poor districts were derelict, full of tight, congested street, some of which I unhappily noted people on. The buildings were shabby, the streets littered, and a rather large number of windows were boarded up.

It made me angry, remembering that as we flew over the rich half of town. Like night and day. Streets were wide and paved, houses were spaced out even though we were in the middle of the city, and most were old but well-maintained. Most of the houses had a carport, whereas the poor area had mostly had the occasional car on the side of the road.

Maybe it was a funding thing; I didn't really know much about city planning. But Brockton Bay had that dichotomy for a reason; the areas had been built for a purpose, and that purpose had disappeared. It stood to reason that these areas of town, so clearly delineated, stood a purpose, but if so, it must have been one long since past.

This city was sick. Not that it mattered, since it might be uninhabitable by the end of the day.

I brought us down to street level at Clock's signal, cushioning our landing with a pillow of air. The street stretched northward, giving us a clear view of the slowly advancing tower of smoke.

"This way." I followed after Clockblocker, who had taken a running start upon landing, looking at the tiny screen on his wristband. "They're two blocks this way, one block over! Look for a McDonald's!"

We approached the McDonald's, sighting a figure on the roof. I had Clock grab my staff, turned on the antigrav, and leapt up. The thought struck me that we probably looked pretty absurd, a tiny kid waving around a teammate on a stick, leaping a cartoonish distance. The animated panels on our respective costumes probably did little to help this.

The roof was coated in a fine black gravel, and upon it sat three figures, a whole bunch of tools, and a machine about the size of a beach ball.

"You are the help we asked for?" was the greeting we received upon landing, spoken somewhat deliberately by one of the capes, a woman decked out in armor reminiscent of a Valkyrie, with a futuristic, swept back wing headpiece. I let Clock talk it out, focusing on my main goal here.

Behemoth was probably only a few minutes away, and I wanted to trap him here, buy time. For that, I'd need a huge area, large enough to stay out of his kill aura, and I'd need a good prison for him. I pushed on a world, and began shifting the building to shining, sterile metal, making a point to leave the tools intact.

The worlds swung into view, shimmering and full of information, telling me how this world had floating oceans, how that one was a world where everything was half the normal size, how another had flowing lava rivers-

I clamped down on it, trying to focus on the task at hand. Clockblocker needed my help, these capes needed my help. I needed something to make a barrier from, a strong one, something resistant to heat and electricity. I let myself be pulled in, immersing myself in the ever-increasing knowledge, letting the limits of my power fall away. Letting the world fall away.

A world with a forest of diamond; too fragile, shear forces too easy to create. Titanium alloy in the walls of that cathedral; flexible, but easy enough to melt. Tungsten carbide crystals coated a volcanic plain; possibly sufficient, but might be too brittle. Wait, there- a world plagued by lightning, where spires and crags of an exposed material drew bolts into the ground. A near-superconductor, and not a weak one at that.

I chose the world, pushing it out. Now I needed… what was it? A battlement, a castle, a wall? Right. I needed a huge wall of the material, because someone needed me to do that.

I absently noted the towering figure that was slowly approaching us in the distance, the constant chatter from my wrist. I willed a wall, thick and tall, to grow between us, as instructed by the familiar voice that stood nearby. The pull called again, and I let it, allowing the wall to grow at speed. On a whim, or perhaps at command, the surface under us changed from the conductor to the surrounding obsidian. Moments later, I noted the power flowing through the material, dissipated into the ground.

My power fed me information on this material, its melting point, its chemical structure, its electron shell, the structure it formed when it was under a certain pressure and temperature and torsion. As another shock drove through the wall, it told me how the bolt would be heating up a few degrees across the hundreds of tons of shimmering golden iridescence, the heat conducting throughout the material in seconds.

The wall was tall enough, now, enough that I could stop growing it. I pushed away, slowly regained awareness of the people around me. I turned my head, looking to Clockblocker, now easily ignoring the information that encroached on my awareness. At some point, I had sat down and put my fists together.

He noted my movement. "Good, you're back with us. Nice wall by the way, probably saved our asses a few times already." I smiled, nodding my acknowledgement. "Okay, the tinkers are almost done with their forcefield, Behemoth is about a mile north of us and closing fast, and as you can hear," he gestured to the wristband, which I realized was still chattering on, "They're getting clobbered out there, so we need to draw his attention. Any ideas?"

I thought about it. My range was about a half mile in every direction, by my estimation, and was currently filled with more crags of conductive metalloid and obsidian, interspersed on a plain of granite crags. I could maybe counter the flames, but I knew relying on my wall would probably be useless once he got close, and I had no options for resisting lightning beyond that. I realized what had to happen, and typed.

'I need him to be here.' 'Might be able to stop him.' 'You go with them, okay?'

He tilted his head, a sign of confusion. "Why do I need to go with them?"

I was already typing, and stood as it played the message.

'I'm gonna drop him, then bury him.'

"That's… actually a really good plan. Okay, Mandala. I'm gonna trust you on this, and we'll pull back and set up a fallback point. See you there." He turned, and walked away.

Other people might have thought he was distant, but I knew better. He knew how unlikely it was that this would succeed, knew this was possibly my most reckless idea yet. But he also knew that I wasn't stupid, and trusted me to come out of it alive. He forced himself to be calm, because he knew the stakes.

He was a good friend, even if his jokes were terrible.

I turned my attention to the armband, turning away from the tinkers and teammate.

 _Batu down, BR-8. Dichotomy deceased, BR-8. Longhaul deceased, BR-8._

I typed out a message, then pressed the talk button and message button on my wristband. A few seconds after I sent it, Alexandria's voice came over the wristband.

'Draw Behemoth towards the giant metal wall to the south. We have a possible way to contain him. Fliers, rendezvous with me for further planning."

The unending chorus of names began again.

It was done. Behemoth was on his way.

I thought a wordless prayer, opened my glider, and took to the skies.


	33. Imbalance 4-2

Imbalance 4.2

Seeing Behemoth for the first time was an experience much like that I had last summer. My whole life, I had been told that life wasn't fair, that people die, that sin was in the world. But it had taken years of bullying for me to realize what they were saying, to understand the horrors of the small evils people do, and the cruelty that comes from them, to feel the pain they wrought.

In much the same way, I had been told that Endbringers existed. Told that cities fell at their might, that islands had been sunk, countries torn apart. But telling someone that was a far cry from preparing someone for the grim reality of it all.

Monster was too kind, too personal, too low to apply. The First, Behemoth, Prathama; these names inspired fear, but they were somehow inadequate to fully inspire the image he projected. He was more like an unstoppable, unbreakable volcano, a walking Vesuvius. A Titan, a primal force.

His skin like gray granite, his claws chunks of obsidian. His head a mockery of the crown of thorns, his cyclopean face glowing red. He was easily over two stories tall, dwarfing the capes - the heroes - that dared face him. Behind him, a cone of destruction, a literal hellscape of fire and broken lives.

I watched from afar as he lashed out with stomps that shattered buildings, gouts of fire as large as a car. I saw him send out a crackling thunderbolt, blindingly brilliant, and blinked away tears of anger as the afterimage of it taking a man in the chest was seared into my vision.

Behemoth was a blight on the world. Not a monster, not an 'Endbringer'. He wasn't some mythological destroyer, waiting in the wings. He was here, right now, and I would do everything I could to stop him, and probably be little more than a minor inconvenience to him.

The worst part? I was okay with dying for a cause. I was okay with dying, and it worried me. I put it aside for now, though.

I landed once more, now on the other side of the wall.

The First gave no quarter, killed without passion. A figure in blue and grey screamed as flames surrounded her, and nobody made it to her before she succumbed to them. A flying cape flew around a globule of lava, only to be struck by another blinding bolt, trailing smoke from the sky. I wanted to help, thought of how I might have saved them, even as I knew that I needed to stick to my plan.

I closed my eyes, took in a breath, and turned my limited focus towards the elements. The air sang with the thunder, the earth rocked with his footsteps, the heat thrummed as it drove the humidity away. The twang of the symphony implied a storm, probably an hour or two away, even though the skies were clear save the massive plume of smoke.

Behemoth stepped into my range. The land beneath him crunched under his massive frame, the barren volcanic landscape mirroring his appearance. He was close, now, barely a quarter mile away. His fires burned on when they landed, despite the lack of fuel. He showed no sign of worry at the sudden shift in terrain; still killing and maiming in a fairly regular pattern.

Alexandria dove in, grappling with the arm of the monster, holding it back long enough for a barrage of attacks to strike his shoulder, a rainbow of effects striking the area, but doing so very little. He flung her off with a swing of his arm, likely redirecting a bit of energy into her.

Eidolon teleported between a series of hovering balls of light, firing beams that seemed to eat the heat and light around them, like glowing, red-hot lances that made everything dim around them. They did little to their target, however.

Legend let loose an array of thin, blindingly bright silver lasers, which struck the fires that stood across the battlefield, freezing them solid like some kind of cartoon. He dived, intercepting a bolt of lightning, and came out of it unscathed, but barely spared a nod for the one it was intended for.

Nothing was stopping Behemoth, nothing was hurting him.

It was time for me to try.

It wasn't like there was a distinct moment that I went from watching the fight to being in the fight; people were already spread throughout my terrain, and Behemoth was, at his core, an opponent best fought at range. There was a distinct moment that I began to help, though, and that was when Behemoth scooped up a chunk of earth and threw it.

I dismissed the wall of metal; in the end, it had served little purpose, and now it stood in the way of our goal. As it sank into the ground, I turned on the antigrav in my staff; I was going to need the maneuverability it afforded me. I leapt, soaring far above the craggy wasteland, aiming for the area the rock would land. Behemoth had superheated the rock, and it was beginning to separate into blobs of red-hot magma.

I considered a blast of air, but dismissed it as too slow. I needed to funnel the heat away, and I only had seconds before I wouldn't be able to stop it from hitting the group. No time, something else.

I landed a few yards away, immediately raising a massive spike of granite to meet the blob. It splattered, and I barely raised a second wall in time to cover myself and the group of capes. The blobs of lava burned into the granite around us.

The man clad in violet and white said something in a foreign language, then followed it with a "Thank you," to which I gave a short nod before taking off again.

I landed again, killing a fireball before it immolated a woman; took off, used a blast of air to deflect a rock; landed, and felt the ground tremor with some redirected energy. I had to stay back, even though I knew I could save more by getting closer to the monster, could stop the tremors and kill the fireballs and counter the roars, because I knew he had things I couldn't stop, and if I went down now the plan would fail.

Behemoth rushed forward, combusting another two unlucky capes; Spinster and Re-he-something. It closed the distance; he was almost in the center of my range now. I took a moment to raise a hollow around myself, typing out another message to Alexandria, letting her know to give the evacuation order. She relayed the message throughout the network, and I went to leave my spot.

A feeling came over me through my power, and I instinctively dove back into cover. Moments later, all I knew was coursing pain, disorienting sound and light, and immense amounts of energy flowing through me. A lightning strike. I'd just dodged a bolt of lightning. I lay there, trying to blink away the spots in my vision, unable to hear anything but an all-consuming ringing, sore all over. Worse, I was having to put all my willpower towards not diving deep into my power, because I knew that while I could ignore the pain if I did, I wouldn't survive another strike if I didn't focus.

I forced myself to get up, relying more on my powers to navigate than anything, feeling the terrain I was projecting, the heat of the air. My hollow was gone, blown apart on the left side, turned to a rough gravel. I stumbled forward, reaching for the staff as I caught a glimpse of it past the blurs in my vision, huffing out a voiceless groan at the body-wide feeling of tight, hot skin and sore muscle as I leaned for it.

Where was Behemoth? Were the other capes evacuated? I glanced to my wristband, rubbing my right eye out of reflex, and found it dead, my panels flickering. Shit, I needed to make contact, and fast. I ran forward, ignoring the pain, and flicked open my glider. At least the staff was working.

Flying while partially blinded was quite the experience. Navigating through glowy-blobbo-vision and air currents, with only faint sound cues, meant I had to take a minute to get my bearings. I managed to pick out the fight, and headed for Legend, who wasn't currently directly fighting, still stopping fires and stuff. He must have spotted me, because he stopped firing and flew my way.

He pulled up next to me, but I couldn't hear him over the wind and the ringing in my ears. I pointed to the ground, at one of the crags of golden metalloid, and dove. He landed before me, which put him in the perfect position to help catch me when I fudged the landing. My vision was clearing up, but with that plus sore, likely burned legs, landing was hard.

Legend looked worried, from what I could tell. "Mandala, I'm glad to see you're not dead. What happened? Are you okay?" I motioned Behemoth's way, pointed at my wristband, shook my head. I wasn't great, but there was no time for a trip to the medical tent. He nodded. "Your wristband shorted out?" I nodded. "I'll let them know, see if I can fetch you another. Everyone should be evacuated shortly, just stay back for now." I nodded again, and he took off. I followed him into the air, but stayed low, dodging through the spires and outcroppings, moving towards the periphery of the fight once more.

I spent a minute or two flying, trying to ignore the pain, the remaining ringing in my ears, the bodies, the useless information my power fed me; distracting. I almost died because I couldn't focus, didn't think of a better response than a simple dive for cover. I could have made more cover, could have tried channeling the energy I'd felt, could have even boosted myself away with a blast of air! But I wasn't thinking right with all these stupid distractions, and I needed my power right now, so it was just empty frustration.

I wanted to hit something, and the only thing worth hitting might incinerate me long before I could.

Legend flew up to me, casually flying backward as he switched my wristband. "We're almost ready!" he yelled over the wind, "Listen for the signal, then do your thing!" He flew off, heading back for the fight. I banked, and headed that way myself.

My area was over a mile across, a massive expanse that I was aware of, and Behemoth was in the center. Around him flew a cloud of flying capes, but now absent were ground forces, and it definitely showed. He was moving quickly, gaining ground, and I had no doubt that he would have completely decimated the buildings in the area, had I not removed them from the equation.

My new wristband beeped, then said, "Mandala, the area is clear." I nodded, more for myself than anything, and turned my focus back to my worlds. I reached for a suitable world, and pushed.

The craggy, desolate wasteland around me began to melt, like an old film melting in a projector. Giant holes full of stars formed, while other areas clumped together into small spheres, some of which floated upward like a lava lamp, while others floated downward. Each had local gravity, but once you got away from them, an overall gravity pulled you towards the center of the massive field of mini-planets.

I made sure Behemoth didn't get one.

He dropped into the void, falling a half mile until he was suspended at the edge of my power. Trapped in an ever-deepening bowl, with nothing solid to push off of, no way to climb free.

The blasters began raining artillery on the distant target, until he was barely visible past the explosions and lightshows. The few Alexandria-esque capes flew down, doing what damage they could to keep him down, tanking fireballs and trying to pry open wounds. I could see Eidolon charging some sort of energy, see another cape let a ball of blinding green light loose, felt the blowback from what had to be a wind attack. Behemoth retaliated with bolts of lightning, striking down some of the artillery capes, but overall? We seemed to be hurting him.

Well, they did, anyway. I couldn't hurt him, unless he was weak to ice, and that seemed like a long shot. He could counter my fire, shrug off air and earth alike, probably didn't need to breathe; I had an idea on how to generate electricity, having felt it firsthand, but that would probably just tickle him, even if I did pull it off. Previous attempts to mess with my fire and its energy had proved explosive, after all.

I did the one thing I figured might help; I flew to the upper edge of my range, well above even the skyscrapers of the city, landed on the soft, mossy surface that coated the top of a large planetoid, and dove deep into my power. Best to just make the pit larger, keep him trapped.

Information poured in, telling me about all the things this world had to offer. I saw all 2,763,193,374 planetoids, ranging in size from beach ball to mountain, each with its own unique features. Here a collection of spheres of ice and water, there one coated in an array of tiny crystals, one near the center of the cloud with an exact 1:1 ratio of iron to tin atoms, mixed throughout the orb.

I didn't even notice what hit me. All I knew was that one second, I was studying a particularly interesting planetoid's crystalline core, and the next second, I was plummeting toward a city, in a whole lot of pain, unable to move in time to stop myself, and oh god I was going way too fast, there was no way I could stop in time-

I had the strangest sense of déjà vu, as I felt my consciousness slip away… and I knew no more.


	34. Imbalance 4-D

Imbalance 4.D

 _This won't be enough._

He let the matter transmutation power go, and felt a new power swell. Lances of negative energy, drawing power from the environment and the target.

He shifted to another telepoint, the power's built-in danger sense alerting him, and sent the beam-like power drainers at the monster. They absorbed even the light around them, giving the impression of a red-hot brand cloaked in shadow. He barely spared it a glance; decades of using his power had shown him far more exotic effects.

The beam struck Behemoth, and stole some energy, but it was too weak, growing so slowly.

 _My power is too weak._

He decided to keep it, though. It may have other, more defensive applications. He cast off the danger sense/telepoint combo, reaching for something that could improve the effectiveness of the weak gravity manipulation he had.

Another flight power grew, so he discarded the old, less worthwhile power. This one was more akin to Legend: a wrecking ball, rapid acceleration and escalating invulnerability. One of his older powers, now slow to grow, but versatile.

The other power came a few moments later. A thinker power, identifying weak points. He looked to Behemoth, but the power barely worked on it. He discarded it as well, and flew away for a ramming run.

His new senses unfolded, designating portions of the battlefield as high and low danger, in clearly defined areas of 'red' and 'green'. Eidolon spun, already near the edge of the expanse of volcanic, jagged wasteland, and began accelerating towards his target. An area was designated 'red' in his path, so he swerved out of its range, weaving past a ball of lava in his mad dash towards Behemoth.

He reached the kill aura, already invincible to its effect; he slammed bodily into the monster, knocking him into a stumble, and accelerated away, working to keep his invulnerability, looping around for another run. This time, he used an array of the antienergy beams, now thin as the lead of a pencil, to leech the energy from Behemoth's attacks, temporarily stopping his destruction, then went to slam into him once more.

The danger sense flashed red moments before he impacted, and he made the split decision to swerve and avoid whatever could still endanger him in this state. A massive blast of thunder nearly deafened him a moment later.

 _Years ago, I would have been able to take that, using this power_ , he thought to himself. _Now, it merely helps me dodge._

He landed, discarding the flight power in search of something more. After a few tries, he got a power that wrapped him in forcefields and used them for mobility and defense. Like the others, it was slow to increase, forcing him to stay grounded for a bit.

He took a moment to study the landscape while he waited. A ruined, jagged landscape, like coarse gravel on a macroscale, with occasional spires of an iridescent golden material which drew stray lightning bolts to it. It was hard to believe that all of this was controlled by a child.

 _I didn't have his kind of power, even in my prime._ It was a sobering thought, an admittance that he couldn't do literally everything, even if he was strong. There were always limits, always shortfalls. Gaps in his powers, constantly having to sacrifice in order to fight.

He shook his head, clearing the thoughts, and took to the air. His armband chirped, and Alexandria's voice came over the speaker. " _Flyers, get ready. The trap closes in thirty seconds."_ Moments later, a second message; " _Stand by. Possible change of plans."_ What the heck was going on? No time, he would be needed to hold off Behemoth regardless.

He flew back to the fight, coated in an armor of translucent white panels of force. His danger sense let him project shields to save other artillery capes from lethal attacks, his lances of red-hot vampiric light cooling the area so other fliers wouldn't be roasted from rising heat. He wasn't doing any damage, but he was helping.

It wasn't enough. People were still dying, still getting injured, collapsing from the heat, or exhaustion. Always the same, with these fights. Less people were dying, but that was because Alexandria had decided to send all the grounded capes away. Mandala had proposed a plan, and his longtime ally had turned it from a disorganized mess that might have simply made people panic and gotten them killed, into a prepared strike that might actually achieve something.

Legend's voice came over the wristband. " _Mandala's okay, the plan is still on. Stand by, don't panic, and good luck."_

Eidolon let go of his beam attack, reaching deep, begging for something strong. For once, he got his wish. A charging blast, with physics-warping effects that increased with the intensity of the attack. He could only hope that it could hurt the First.

His first attempt missed; the shot went wild, striking the ground in the distance, causing everything within a few meters to shift to a liquid for exactly ten seconds. His second shot was interrupted by a collective cry of shock, awe, and fear from across the battlefield, throwing off his aim as he searched for the source, then sputtering as he saw it.

The entire area was liquefying.

For a moment, Eidolon was horrified – _It finally happened. I got a power that broke something primal._ Then he realized that this wasn't his power. Mandala had finally come through, and it was a sight to behold, even to the eyes of a man who had every power.

The ground flowed into globes, leaving stars and void behind, an asteroid field of near-perfect spheres. A blue sun shone through the field – no, it was a twin set of blue stars, looking oblong from this angle, only viewable thanks to the sheer number of intervening asteroids. Utterly alien, in a way Doormaker could only dream of accessing.

With some catharsis, he noted Behemoth as he fell, plummeting uncontrollably. Abruptly, the Endbringer came to a stop, bounced a bit, like hitting an elastic barrier of some sort, and slid down into the depths of the mile-wide hole in reality Mandala had formed in midtown Johannesburg.

 _Such power, and so young. Why has Contessa let him be a simple Ward?_ A stupid question, he mused, given her power, but one he'd like the answer to. He set about charging a massive blast, relying on his danger sense to dodge the occasional attack. A maelstrom of effects clouded Behemoth from sight, but it wasn't as if he could dodge, so Eidolon would make this blast count.

Bigger.

Bigger.

Bigger!

Perfect. He set about launching the massive, house-sized, crackling, deep violet orb of physics-disruption at the form of the Endbringer far below. Several things happened, almost simultaneous, in the moment it left his control.

First, the flying bricks flew upward and the other blasters stopped shooting, clearing the area in preparation of his blast. They obviously didn't know what it would do, but they knew it couldn't be safe.

Second, Eidolon's danger sense exploded, painting the entire area red, and the void a red so deep it was almost black. He immediately burst into action, using forcefields to pull as many upward as he could, yelling for them to fall back, but failing to express how much danger they were in. He himself barely made it high enough to escape what happened next.

Third, Behemoth, now unobscured save Eidolon's eminent attack, was revealed to be curled into a ball. He was glowing, not the color of radiation; a blinding white light emanated from every inch of skin on his body, outlining the obsidian claws and horns. In that moment, that image was seared into everyone's memory; in the next, everything was light and sound, heat and pain, for a vast majority of the capes on the battlefield.

Then, a moment after all of that, Eidolon watched as the planetoids winked out of existence, the ground appeared, and the armband on his wrist blithely chirped, " _Heavy losses. Please wait."_

Their entire force, decimated. He'd had a good idea of how many now lay dead under the city, or worse. At least a dozen, maybe more. Many of whom he'd known, and more he wished he'd had a chance to. Others fell from the sky, close enough to the blast to be seriously hurt or blinded. He noted that his physics-warper had been swapped for a basic regeneration power while he'd been in shock, healing his own injuries somewhat.

As if mocking him, the ground began to sink inward, buildings shattering as a massive sinkhole began to form above Behemoth's last known location. His last shot, doing whatever exotic effect the power had decided upon, or perhaps the Endbringer surfacing. He didn't much care; either way, it was a nail in their coffins, and it was his fault for not being strong enough to save them.

Behemoth did indeed surface a moment later, a few blocks south of the sinkhole. He seemed slimmer, but looked just as menacing as before; had the blast taken something out of him? Almost immediately after standing, he was beset by a series of fireballs and boulders. Someone was fighting, and they were doing it alone. He needed to help.

 _"Losses are as follows: Mavis, Bliksem, Dragon, Donderweer…"_

He tuned it out, casting off his regeneration in search of something offensive. The armbands were rather ambiguous; there was a chance that they could still be alive. Eidolon pushed aside his emotions for now, focusing on the fight once more.

 _"…Alexandria, Flitter, Poesklap, Exalt …"_

 _No - She would be alive, as would Exalt,_ he told himself. Focus. His new power was blooming, and whoever was fighting Behemoth couldn't do it alone for long. A point-blank telekinesis ability; useless without invulnerability. He cast it off, swooping into the fight.

"… _Fjord, Breaker, Shinedown, Braai…"_

A power to create intense sonic vibrations in a direct line to the target; It could work. He swooped in, firing a blast, and caught a glimpse of the only other fighter engaging Behemoth.

It was Mandala... if he had glowing eyes, and was exhibiting far more power than expected. He was flying, putting out aerokinetic blasts that rivaled Exalt – a brief pang of loss – while flinging buildings and spears of water, while casually batting aside car-sized fireballs. Eidolon's danger sense could see the paths of the attacks in advance, but Mandala moved like he saw them too.

No time to consider it – he needed to draw attention. Two more sonic waves warped the air, striking Behemoth, cracking his rock-hard skin and spilling ichor, eliciting a flinch. Mandala sent him stumbling a moment later, a massive blast of wind sending parked cars flipping end over end. Eidolon cast off the sonic power in frustration, seeking something effective.

Mandala tore a massive chunk of street out of the ground, and made a clenching motion with his hands. The chunk shrank - not destroyed, but condensed - until it was the size of a beach ball, and then was disintegrated to form a cloud of dense projectiles around the bright-eyed child. Eidolon's danger sense painted the entire cloud as a danger zone for him, moments before the boy spun in midair, kicking the stones into a blurred storm of debris.

 _Was he holding back this whole time? Why?_

His power gave him something to work with; his newest ability was an energy redirection shield that stayed just beyond his skin, nullifying incoming momentum, heat, and other forms of energy past a certain point, and turning them into attacking power. It also gave him flight. While he didn't want to give up the Narwhal-esque forcefields, he needed more power, so it was allowed to go.

He used his new power to dive into the kill aura, baiting Behemoth to use his power in an attempt to incinerate him. The bait worked, supplying his shield with a massive amount of energy, which immediately went into firing transparent, refractive lances of kinetic force, scoring deep marks into the Endbringer's back. His newest power, a Brute power, let him tank the leftover momentum from his retaliatory swipe, the rest being turned into even more energy to fuel attacks.

Legend appeared, firing an array of blue-white lasers which turned the target's skin red-hot, scouring lines into it. Mandala dodged a bolt of lightning, then pulled water from a nearby hydrant, freezing Behemoth in place just long enough for his next massive chunk of street to slam into him, while Eidolon used the opportunity to score more hits with his force-lances. They were actually hurting him, bit by bit.

Behemoth retaliated by roaring. His roar was normally loud enough to liquefy organs in a few hundred feet, and it caused Eidolon some pain from the sound even with his power dampening its sheer kinetic force. Legend shifted to living energy, barely missing a beat. Mandala – was doubled over in pain, clutching at his stomach, with no sign of his debris shield or glowing eyes. Shit!

He motioned to Legend, pointed to the boy, and mouthed, "I'll hold him off. You get him help." Legend, nodded, and swooped down to grab the now limp child's form before accelerating away.

Eidolon turned to face his adversary, and thought of his fellow capes. Let himself feel their deaths and injuries, and turned that into anger. He roared, small in comparison to Behemoth's, but far more defiant.

"Come and get me, you fucking monster! I'll make you pay!"


	35. Imbalance 4-R

Imbalance 4.R

Her entire world was pain.

No, that was an exaggeration. She remembered a time her world had been nothing but aching pain and misery and foggy thoughts, and this wasn't that. No, her entire world wasn't pain. Just her left arm.

She opened her eyes, groaning. What the hell had happened? She took stock.

She'd been fighting Behemoth. Eidolon had done an unfamiliar attack, as he was wont to do. Behemoth had responded, and she'd been disoriented by the flashbang-like explosion. Then-

A trail of pain tore through her train of thought. She gritted her teeth and discarded the useless recapitulation. It didn't matter, because right now, she had to deal with the pain. She looked to her shoulder, and received a visceral shock.

Her arm was gone. There was just a stump, perfectly cut in a diagonal plane, and pouring what she knew was a very unhealthy amount of blood onto the ground.

 _I'm losing blood. I'm going into shock._ _ **I need to get help.**_

She groaned as a fresh wave of pain hit, and pushed off the ground. A moment later, she lifted off the sidewalk with flight, and reached over to try and staunch the flow. Gripping the stump caused yet another wave of blinding pain to course through her, like what an electric current might feel like; a jolt, an unsuppressed cry of agony. She barely remained airborne.

Her wristband was gone; it was most convenient on the left arm. She didn't know the current situation, and people likely thought she was dead. She needed to make it back to a fallback point.

Agony, wave after wave of agony, was radiating from the wound. Not the dull ache of chemo, stronger than the phantom pain of her missing eye. She was unused to pain, and it was distracting her from the priority.

 _South. Go south._

She looked to the sky, but the sun was behind the clouds. She looked to the street signs instead, and headed south in search of help.

She was slipping, she knew; blood loss was killing her, dulling her exceptional mind and senses. Pain was ruining her focus, slowing her flight.

The sound of Behemoth roaring in the distance. Avoid. No condition to fight.

She cried out again as another wave of pain hit, making her swerve through a wall. The hot, black-red blood left a running trail on the floor as it spurted between her fingers, soaking the black fabric of her costume in a familiar fashion. Normally not her blood in the fabric, but it was familiar nonetheless.

The clouds began growing darker, more ominous. She found it funny somehow. Behemoth didn't make storms. She giggled a bit at that, delirious, but her laughter was soon interrupted by her own screams of pain. It was distant, but it still hurt.

 _I need help, now._ _ **Faster.**_

Through a building, boom, boom, the walls coming down as she flew straight in this direction. Rain splattering onto her black costume, pinging against her helmet. A light, purple and flat. She headed for it. It looked like a nice place to crash for awhile. That thought set off another round of laughter, unhinged, now too far gone for the pain to matter.

She smashed through the barrier, still laughing, and fell to the roof, skidding to a stop. The purple light was so welcoming, the rain so cool. The laughter died down. She was so tired… she'd just take a nap for a while, right here, and then do whatever it was she'd been doing.

Her eyes closed, and she lost herself to the welcoming void.

-Shangri-La-

 _Earlier_

Clockblocker was alone.

He wasn't really _alone_ , but there was a difference between having people around you and being part of a group.

It really didn't help that these _fucking people_ didn't want to get along.

"Oi, _kaffer_ , you got a #3 wrench?"

" _Sy naam is kom terug en sy van is bloedbek_ , but sure."

"Fine, I just gonna tighten this bolt then you can put it back in your _gat_ where it belongs," the first man said cheerily, taking the wrench from the other tinker.

It sounded innocent enough, considering it was another language, but he'd heard similar conversations back home. People who despised each other, being forced to work together.

"Done, or you gonna pocket that, _khaki_?"

"As long as you're offering, you can't complain…" he motioned to do exactly that, then tossed it back to the man in carbon-black armor.

" _Fokken soutie,_ " the man in black mumbled, picking up the fumbled wrench.

He was stuck on a rooftop with two people who despised each other, while his teammate was risking his life alone. The armband was stubbornly silent at this range, and all he could see of the battlefield was the distant edge of the craggy area, and the massive plume of smoke rising from the far edge.

Distant peals of thunder rocked the air, lending an ominous bent to the massive stormclouds on the distant ridges to the north. Beams of light flashed down from flying capes, giving him a vague sense of where the Endbringer fought. The ground began to melt- wait, what?

"Holy shit…" Cheers, sounds of awe, and yells of confusion echoed from other rooftops nearby, where other teams of defensive capes were doing similar preparations.

Over the course of around thirty seconds, the distant area became a floating field of orbs. It had to be Mandala. He knew the kid was powerful; nobody would deny that, his powers were stupidly broken; but this was the first time he'd really seen him go all out. Even at this distance, it was incredible to see. He smiled. This had to be one of the biggest moments of Mandala's life.

"Wow, that's really something. What the hell did they do to that place?"

He spoke up. "That's my teammate. The other guy that was with me earlier."

"The kid!? You're fucking with me!"

"Nope. His powers are complete and utter bullshit, and I do my best to remind him of that at every opportunity."

He laughed. "If so, you are a true friend. That kind of power makes the warlords look weak, if you know what I mean."

Dennis frowned. "I don't really."

The man turned his golden-clad visor back towards his work, continuing. "It takes a good person to befriend a monster. Here, he might have ruled a country with that kind of power. I do not know much about America, but I have fought a few warlords who tried taking from South Africa, and few could hold a candle to that."

Dennis turned back towards the fight, processing the statement. Eventually, while watching the distant flashes of powers, he had an answer.

"I guess I don't care whether he's strong or not. He's a good friend, and that's all that matters. Powers don't factor into it."

"Like I said, a true friend. I wish him luck."

"There, finished. No thanks to you, _khaki_ ," the man in black said. "Too busy being a pillar of goodness to help me finish the field emitters."

"Look, are you looking for a fight? Cause after this bastard's gone, I'll fight you. Name a place!"

Suddenly, the battle shifted. Distant, tiny figures fled the pit, flying up as fast as possible. Dennis called out, "Guys! Look!" He immediately regretted it.

The entire area was bathed in a flash of blinding light, and a deafening boom came a second later. Cries of pain and surprise came from the surrounding rooftops, where others had been looking as well. Dennis blinked away the tears from his eyes, the cityscape etched in light on his retinas fading slowly.

A sense of dread filled his stomach as he tried to get a clear view through the newly-raised forcefield.

Where were the orbs? What the hell just happened?

"Goddammmit, kid! I can't see _kak_!"

"I'm sorry?" he said, frustrated. "Something went wrong."

"No shit, it's a fokking Endbringer! Of course it went wrong, it always goes wrong!"

The ground shook, and Dennis cursed as he stumbled, falling to his knees.

Mandala – Michael – might be dead. A lot of people might be dead, and he could do nothing but wait and watch. He envied Shadow Stalker, even; search and rescue had to be better than this fucking intolerable waiting game.

A distant crack of thunder signified the start of combat with Behemoth. There was no sign of the reality-altering area's return.

The clouds were dark now, close and dark. He watched them blankly as they slowly crawled past.

His teammate was probably dead. He'd barely known him a month. He was just a kid. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, and none of that mattered because Behemoth didn't care about that. Michael had been an inconvenience, maybe. And now-

The rain began to fall.

He raised his armband, pressed the button. "Es- Estimated time till Scion arrives?"

It beeped, and a robotic voice answered. " _Scion's last known location is in North America. ETA 20 minutes to 120 minutes."_

Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes ago, he'd been riding with Michael. Twenty minutes from now? This might be over. He couldn't do anything about it. It was just a waiting game. Delay and distract the monster as long as possible.

A building collapsed a few blocks north of him. He glanced up, expecting the worst. It was dim now, despite the fact that it was morning, because of the clouds, and the glowing violet forcefield made it hard to see. Whatever it was, though, it wasn't Behemoth.

He peered through the rain, and made out a figure. It was flying erratically, at speed, smashing into walls as it flew. He backed away as he realized it was heading straight for them.

"Get back, we've got incoming!" The two tinkers dived for some semblance of cover, and he himself hid behind an AC unit, freezing it to make an invulnerable barrier.

A moment later, the forcefield shattered like glass, crackling. A moment after that, the thing skidded to a stop on the far side of the roof, a black figure against the light gravel surface. The forcefield thrummed and reformed, bathing the rooftop in violet light once more.

Cautiously, Dennis stood. The figure was moaning, in what he quickly realized was pain. He broke into a run to the figure, flipping her over.

Alexandria. The invulnerable woman, now missing an arm. Without a second thought, he froze her.

This was something he could do.

-Shangri-La-

 _"Priority message: Clockblocker reports that he is holding Alexandria in stasis at grid D-A4. She needs immediate medical assistance. Her left arm is missing."_

Damn it, that was almost as bad as her being dead. Eidolon was the only one who could heal her, in their experience, and Behemoth was only being hindered through his intervention.

He sped up, praying that she would stay alive long enough for him to get to her. Shifting his grip on Mandala, he pressed the buttons on his wristband, sending a return message.

"Clockblocker, hold her as long as you can." Then, a message to Eidolon: "Alexandria's alive, but she needs healing soon. Clockblocker is keeping her alive for now, but you need to get to her asap."

He decelerated, forcing himself to do so in a way that didn't injure the unconscious child under his right arm. He headed to the medical tent, calling for help, then left Mandala in their hands.

He rushed back to the fight, arriving in less than a minute, and dove into combat. Pulling up next to Eidolon, he shouted over to him.

"She's lost an arm! I'll work with the others, you go see if you can help her!"

Eidolon nodded, and headed in the direction of their fellow teammate.

He turned back to the battle. Years of fighting Behemoth told him he had nothing that really hurt it, but he had to try. His eyes fell on a familiar group of capes, and he smiled as a plan formed.

He swooped down to meet Revel, Assault, and Battery. "Alright, here's the plan…"

-Shangri-La-

Eidolon flew, drawing and discarding powers as he searched. Delving deep for a power that could save his partner.

He found it just as he spotted the rooftop. Not a perfect match, but a familiar one. The strange time acceleration power that he'd used on her last time she'd been injured, when regeneration had failed.

"Eidolon? She's frozen right now, over here." He followed the Ward, seeing up close the scene he'd spotted from above. Alexandria, sundered. Lying in a pool of blood that was washing away in the rain, frozen in a partial fetal position. One arm gripping the stump of another.

She looked so very fragile. There was something wrong about that; she was always the confident, powerful one, always the one who could both dive in headfirst and have a ten-step plan for the rest of the fight. She hadn't been fragile once in the decades he'd known her, even on the day she'd lost her eye.

The power he would be using might change that. It wouldn't fix the arm, just keep her from bleeding out. Even now, he was using his last slot to search for an alternative, something to use that would be better, anything at all.

None came, even as he waited, standing vigil in the rain. After almost three minutes, she started breathing again. He begged her for forgiveness, and began to use his power.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the week's delay. I only had a half-finished chapter last Thursday, and it was complete garbage, so I had to scrap it and rewrite the whole thing. For some reason, I was trying to write this entire interlude from the perspective of Mr. Guy in the Black Armor, whose name is Versper for those wondering. Anyway, it's gone now.

Translations:

Kaffer- derogatory term for Black South Afrikaners.

Khaki- derogatory term for Caucasians.

Gat- Hole, either mouth or, more commonly, ass

Kak- shit

Fok- fuck

'Sy naam is kom terug en sy van is bloedbek'- "It's first name is Come Back, it's last name is (or I'll give you a) Bloody Mouth." Warning when loaning things.

Soutie- literally 'salty dick', derogatory to English-speaking Caucasians in particular; derived from the saying "One foot in England, one in Africa, and their dick in the Atlantic."

Afrikaans is an amazing language, isn't it? So quaint.


	36. Imbalance 4-A

A/N: So, story time.  
My laptop has been having problems for a few months. Random freezes, refusal to start, some overheating. So around New Year's, I'm struggling to complete chapters with holidays going on, and then my laptop just bricks. I don't have a job, so I couldn't take it to a shop, and ended up waiting a week for a family member to take a look at it.

After a thorough cleaning and inspection, we've determined that my laptop is a dirty liar, and that it has issues. However, as long as I refrain from using it for anything more than video streaming, it should hopefully stop crashing. It's a stopgap measure, and I miss my steam library, but it works.

That said, I think I need a different update schedule. I want to do weekly updates, but I keep having trouble meeting those deadlines. I also have lots of story ideas that I'd love to write, both in Worm and original work. I'm going to give itsome thought, but for now, I think I have to just release my stories when I can. I think that will let me make larger chapters with better flow, but I do wish I didn't need to do this.

TL;DR: laptop pulled through, but I didn't. Updates are officially 'when I can'.

* * *

Imbalance 4.A

Assault loved being a superhero. It was so nostalgic sometimes.

Sure, in his tenure as a Birdcage-bound escape artist, he'd done a lot of crazy stuff. Gotten into a bunch of crazy fights with a bunch of questionably-sane people shooting at him or fighting alongside him. And now, he did that on the other side of the coin, and was happy for it. Sure, you had to fight these bastards too, but that was something he'd done as Madcap anyway.

Normally, being a hero was pretty tame. Saving cats instead of criminals. But getting told by your boss that the plan was for him to shoot you? That was just like the old days.

The beam struck him, a lance of kinetic energy being redirected into a kick. His wife, bless her little puppy heart, was punted at what had to be just under the speed of sound straight into Behemoth, sending the bastard staggering back. A moment later, Revel released her lantern, sending balls of light dancing towards Behemoth, while Sam returned to his side with the remains of the burst of invulnerability. Behemoth recoiled as the lights struck him, digging deep and doing visible damage. Sammy curled back into the ball, and he picked her up and sat her on his shoulder to charge.

Legend was supplying them with the energy needed to do their attacks. He was also doing them the favor of absorbing any lightning that came his and puppy's way. _And thank god for that,_ he thought, as his once-captor, now-boss crackled with energy from another bolt. He shifted, picking Sam off his shoulder. Time for another round.

Legend shot him in the back, shot Revel's lantern. Sam went flying as he dropkicked her again, striking the monster, rinse, repeat. Revel's lantern-lights did their thing.

Other capes moved in to do damage as well. Some were hurt, and one or two fell to lightning or fire. So few of those that remained could enter the kill aura, leaving a loose clearing that moved with the walking disaster. Puppy was one of only three melee fighters on the field right now, and the only one that was actually a ranged attacker.

Once more, he picked her up. "Hey, puppy?"

"Yes?" The exasperation in her voice was adorable.

"Let's go for breaking the sound barrier this time."

A laugh. "Go fuck yourself, honey." The humor in her voice was clear.

He wound up for the kick, and replied without losing a beat. "I believe that's your job now, puppy!" He sent her flying.

Revel sent him a look. "We're in the middle of a fight for our lives, here. This really the time?"

"Of course! If you can't find humor in domestic Battery, there's no point to the Assault!"

She groaned as Battery returned to his side. "Now I know why Armsmaster always has a stick up his ass."

"What, did you talk to him? Shouldn't have done that. I'm only able to put up with him through something akin to Stockholm Syndrome," his wife commented as she curled into a ball.

He huffed. "I'm hurt that you would say that!" He couldn't hide the grin as Revel gave an exasperated sigh, then it was time to do another attack.

Puppy flew towards Behemoth, breaking the sound barrier with a crack. Unfortunately, the Endbringer was ready this time. As she struck, he redirected the energy of her attack into the ground, sending a massive spiderweb of cracks through the concrete streets. Assault's heart fluttered as he saw Battery scrabble for purchase, barely managing to escape the kill aura in time. The volley of Revel's lights hit a moment later, buying time for Assault to rush in and get his puppy to safety.

Legend flew down. "Alright, we need a new plan. Any ideas?"

Assault thought a moment, pushing aside his urge to go try to punch the fucker out. "Yeah," he said, all humor in his voice lost, "I might have one or two."

-Shangri-La-

Rebecca awoke, and immediately knew something was wrong.

There was noise around her. Faint, dampened by something. Sounds that nonetheless were familiar to her, of pain and terror and the slow creep of death.

There was the ache. She hadn't felt pain in many years, so there was no reason she should have an ache.

There was the fogginess in her mind, noticeable in the way her thoughts were sluggish and repetitive.

It reminded her of her last days as young Rebecca. She hated those days.

She dug into her memory to find out why she hurt, why she was foggy.

Ah.

She breathed in, and out. Slowly, she opened her eye, and looked down.

David was standing there, maintaining a green field around them both. Around the bed. She ignored him a moment, looking to her left.

Yeah, it was gone. She could still sort of feel where it should be, but it was gone.

David began to talk, and she didn't respond. She knew exactly what he'd said, she just needed a moment.

"Becca? How are you feeling?"

"Fine." The word came out curt, sharp. She reiterated, softer this time; "I'm fine." Not much better. She could see the hurt on his face, and knew she should take it back, but instead let it stand.

"I'm sorry. I did what I could, but my power wouldn't answer my call. This was the only option I had."

"I understand."

He wanted to say more, she could tell. Probably more apologies, more platitudes and pleas for forgiveness. She wasn't in the mood for it. Setting her face to a 'genuine' smile beneath the visor, lilting her voice just right, she spoke. "If I'm not out there, they probably need all the help they can get. I'll be fine. Get back out there and be a hero."

She saw it fail. Saw him almost accept her mood change, then see past it. Just as expected. He left without another word. Later, she would make a careful apology. She knew she was being harsh, but she needed the outlet right now.

As he left, the barrier went down, and the screams flooded in.

-Shangri-La-

Amy was used to the screams.

Once, she had been horrified by them. Felt obligated to run, heal everyone she could as fast as they could be healed. It had taken several months of ER visits to realize that she was wasting her energy. She could save more by pacing herself, lasting longer so that more healing could be done.

By necessity, then, she had to get used to the screams.

"OH GOD, MY LEG!"

Everyone had a reason. Pain, fear, attention.

"I need a nurse over here!"

It wasn't like she didn't feel empathy and sympathy, or that she thought they were unimportant.

"AAAAAAGHHH!"

It was just a way to cope.

She walked through a curtain.

"Do I have your permission to heal you?"

The cape nodded emphatically. "Jes, jes, please, help me!"

She stepped up and placed a hand on the man's forearm. She shut off the pain receptors temporarily, and went to work. The man's leg was put back in order, the burns healed. The man thanked her in broken English, and she nodded, already moving on. She changed the appropriate flags once outside. He would be uncuffed and back on the battlefield shortly.

She sighed. The Herokiller lived up to his name. This tent was far less full than Leviathan's had been. Her first Endbringer fight, and they'd been swamped both by rain and bodies. Behemoth left few in any condition to return.

She opened another curtain. "Do I have permission-" she stopped, surprised. "Alexandria?"

"Panacea. A pleasure to meet you, if not under the happiest circumstances," the woman said. "You certainly have permission to try."

Amy nodded, swallowing. Alexandria reached out with her gloved right hand. Amy put a finger into a gap where the material had worn away entirely, making skin contact. Alexandria's body flooded Amy's awareness, and she frowned.

"I'm not sure what to make of this," she said. "Your body is stuck, sort of. Vital processes going on, but there's no cell division. Muscles aren't contracting right, on the molecular level. You still have bloodflow, but it's mostly supplying your brain and organs. It's like a facsimile of a normal body." She shook her head a bit, clearing the stray thoughts from her mind. "Sorry about that. Let me actually try to heal you."

Alexandria nodded. "That would be best."

She focused on the eye. Both it and the shoulder looked to her power like much older tissue, skin grown over scars. She told the older cells to divide, told the blood to redirect biomass from one place to another. She'd need extra to build the arm, but it shouldn't be hard to rebuild the eye with what she had. Well, it shouldn't, but…

"I can't. Your body is refusing to respond, even in the more internal areas. I'm afraid your invincibility applies to me, as well." She felt the adrenaline spike, saw the muscles in the hand clench ever so slightly. Subtle hints at her emotions. Amy realized, then, that she had just told the strongest woman in the world that she would never heal. She reflexively jerked her hand away.

Alexandria spoke, sounding puzzled. An act, they both knew it. "Is something wrong?"

Amy shook her head, trying to quell the rush of epinephrine she saw pouring through her system, despite not actually being able to control it. "No, nothing's wrong. I'm sorry I can't heal you." She paused. Her body was screaming at her to run, but her brain reminded her of her professional duties.

"You're low on blood. You might notice some major dizziness and impaired cognition, and possibly blackouts from pushing yourself too hard. Normally, we could fix that in an hour, but since we can't do an IV and I can't help, make sure to take a few weeks off from strenuous activity and ingest plenty of iron and fluids." She took a moment to calm herself a little. "I'm afraid that means no more fighting today."

Alexandria nodded, sighing. "I understand. I'll be sure to get an escort home, as well. It wouldn't do to black out over the ocean."

Amy nodded dumbly. Alexandria was pissed off right now, and she needed to stop reminding the woman that she couldn't fix her. Finally giving in to her instincts, she exited the curtained cubicle.

She was having a minor panic attack. She could literally watch the endorphins running through her body, changing brain chemistry and metabolism in preparation for running the hell away. The worst part was that it was justified. She'd just told Alexandria that she'd probably never heal. That kind of thing could have gotten her killed with a less heroic cape.

She leaned against a stretcher, catching her breath. Tuning out the sporadic yells and screams, just focusing on calming herself. Soon enough, she returned to her duties, well away from the section Alexandria was in. She went to work treating the patients that had already received all the help the doctors could provide for now, for better or worse. Trying to hit the bad cases, maybe save the ones that normal medicine wouldn't be able to help easily.

She ran across another familiar face there, so to speak. The new Ward. M-something, she couldn't quite remember. The broken arm kid. His outlook wasn't good; a coma at best, and this wasn't the best scenario.

She stepped inside.

-Shangri-La-

I woke up in agony, my skin on fire, my body cold. Screams of the damned echoed in my ears. I could barely move, barely think. A figure loomed over me, spattered with blood across its bone-white hooded robe. I tried to speak, to beg for mercy, and found my voice still gone. Couldn't I at least have that, if I was in hell?

The figure spoke, the words distant and quiet, barely audible past the horrible wailing. "Do I have permission to heal you?"

I nodded, slowly and carefully, hissing at the pain even that small action elicited. The figure did have a cross on her front; maybe she would save me from the pain.

She laid a hand on my forehead, and a sensation of calm swept through me. My whole body ceased to voice its agony to my head, and I knew peace. I slowly began to realize where I was. A hospital; at least, I hoped it was a hospital. Could still be hell, judging by the screaming. The girl next to me was a point against that idea, though. No way Amy would be in hell.

I smiled up at her, before remembering my mask. It was good to see a familiar face.

"Oh, good, you're coming back to awareness. I'd ask what the hell you did to get in the condition you were, if you could answer." She sounded a bit put off. "You were almost dead. Heavily damaged organs, minor but widespread internal bleeding, shrapnel, electrical burns and related nerve damage, ruptured eardrums, smoke inhalation, partial blindness. It looks like you were blown up, struck by lightning, and blown up again. Not to mention the older wounds. It's ridiculous."

I frowned, trying to remember what had happened. It was slow, like my memories were slipping through metaphorical fingers like water. I tried to bring my arm up, ask for a writing pad, but she pushed it back down. "Don't move yet. I'm about to start fixing nerves. This might hurt a bit."

I was subjected to a few minutes of cramps and pains, which I accepted without complaint, mostly because I couldn't. I was thankful when the sensations subsided and my head began to clear.

"You need to be more careful. You nearly died. Plus, too much injury at your age may stunt natural growth." That really seemed to be a bit unimportant, given the current situation. I indicated that opinion with a raised eyebrow. "Don't give me that look. I'm not gonna be there every time you need to be put back together, and natural healing will take away from your growth."

She paused, sighing. She sounded very, very weary. "Anyway, you'll want to eat more for a few days. I used up most of your remaining fat reserves, and your metabolism's gonna skyrocket for a while." She took her hand away. "You're healed. Try to stay that way." She moved to leave, and I reached out, trying to grab her hand. I found it handcuffed to the bed, but she heard the clinking and turned. I gave her a nod. I would try.

She left, and I lay there, thinking. Where had I gone wrong?

The first thing that came to mind was that I'd relied on my dream worlds far too much. I'd almost died several times thanks to the distractions it offered. I'd even had the thought that I shouldn't rely on them, then did exactly that minutes later. Stupid and reckless. I'd been willing to die, but I didn't want it to be a waste.

The last thing I remembered was falling. No, that wasn't quite right. I had vague impressions of some combat, but it was little more than flashes of action. Fires blocked, lightning dodged. I'd been fighting Behemoth? How the heck? It was like trying to remember a dream; I wasn't getting anything from it. I gave up, and went back to assessing the situation.

On the equipment side of things, my suit looked to be useless. It was still just a mess of flickering panels. I was stuck with writing till further notice, I guess. As for the staff - oh jeez, it was probably a complete loss. I'd had it with me during the trap, but it certainly wasn't here. I felt bad about that. Chris and Armsmaster worked so hard on it. If I made it out of this, I'd have to make it up to them somehow.

A nurse came in, unlocked my cuffs, and told me to make my way out. I followed the signs, flinching occasionally at the yells and cries. A man was teleported in nearby, his arm a charred mess, moaning, and I winced in sympathy. The teleporter winked out of existence a moment later.

I'd seen people die, out there. Been unable to save them. But I'd put them aside, because I hadn't been able to focus on their loss. But now?

My powers might mess with my head, but right now, I was me, and I had problems with being that distant. I would have no more distracting powers clouding my judgement, no matter the possible benefits. There would be risks ahead, but no more being reckless with my life. And no more letting people die.

Mind sorted, I took off toward the battlefield.


	37. Imbalance 4-3

This chapter beta-read by Undead Robot and RoJo over on SpaceBattles.

It's been too long, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless.

Imbalance 4.3

The journey to the battlefield didn't take long.

I'd barely run three minutes when the first signs of the disaster started showing themselves. The air thrummed with heat, rain steaming into a soupy, muggy fog. My vision quickly dropped to a few yards, and I was forced to slow down and channel the fog away as I ran or risk crashing into something. The fog made the distant sounds of the fight warp, giving rise to sounds that I knew would have haunted my dreams, if sleeping was something I could do. Moans and roars, distant, warped screams, and claps of thunder that sounded like the footfalls of an angry god, echoing off the walls and shaking the ground. The rain fell harder, flowing past my ruined armor plates, outlining the lines of the mask on my cheeks.

This was all so real, so visceral. The difference between this and my thoughts while managing an area were like the difference between a beautiful picture book and a well-crafted novel. They were both amazing, but one had more substance.

I made my way to a rooftop, blowing away the nearby fog with a gesture. To my left, a massive glowing area, flashing with the lights of fires, lightning, and various attacks. I headed that way, careful not to slip as I hopped from rooftop to rooftop.

I had suspected we were losing this fight. What I saw of the battlefield only confirmed it.

The scene unfolded as I got closer, heat searing the fog away, replacing it with brutal humidity. The fog on all sides gave the battlefield a feeling of entrapment. Forcefields formed a line along the side I was approaching from, a rainbow of colors and effects walling in the fight, interspersed with a few weapon emplacements and more mundane barriers. The heat in the area was like a sauna, and I started sweating within moments. I immediately started cooling myself with the rain, but others didn't have that luxury, and it showed. The meager resistance left standing were tired, the heat sapping the fight from them, many retreating or swapping out with teammates, few getting anywhere near the massive form of Behemoth. They were backed against a wall.

Was this my fault? What the hell had I done?

I shook aside the thought. I couldn't dwell on things now; I had to act.

What could I do, though? I couldn't hurt Behemoth. I couldn't even get close to him. I wasn't fit to be a fighter, and I wasn't going to try projecting a world again, not in this fight.

I had one option; damage control. Same as with Lung, just with bigger stakes.

I started channeling heat away from ground level, forming an upward funnel of heated, humid air. I sapped the heat from the water in the funnel, then used its rotation to fling the cooled mist outward. Hopefully, If I got the air moving, I could get cool air to start pulling itself in to push up the hot air. At least, I hoped that was how it worked; I was working with information off of half a Discovery Channel special, not experience.

Further in, entire buildings were being melted to slag from the sheer heat. I had to try harder.

I began hopping from rooftop to rooftop, dragging my mini-tornado along. I made the mist into sleet, pulling every bit of heat I could from it. It still wasn't enough; the icy raindrops sizzled and popped before they hit the ground.

Another thunderclap, and a distant cry of loss.

I gritted my teeth. I needed more. More power, more time, more experience, something.

That thought settled in my mind for a moment before I mentally smacked myself.

I needed more experience.

What do you do when you don't know what to do?

Ask someone older than you for help.

But who? And how? I couldn't exactly talk, and my sign language was both rough and likely to be useless. Plus, stuff like weather phenomena creation wasn't exactly common knowledge, even among adults, right? It wasn't like I could just walk up to Eidolon and ask him how to make a functional ice storm from scratch.

Actually, he probably did know stuff like that, but that wasn't the point. Eidolon would be in the middle of the fight, or near it. He'd be really busy with the whole 'fighting a demonic monster that kills with reckless abandon' thing. Yeah. Not a good idea to interrupt that, not when Behemoth was so close to breaching the last lines of defense.

I had to do something though. Armsmaster said he was going to help out some tinkers, and Clock had been helping out too. The other members of the Brockton Bay Protectorate would be around the battlefield, doing search and rescue like Shadow Stalker, or fighting like Battery. I just had to find them.

I took off towards the nearest group of capes, wincing at a thunderclap.

This tornado thing wasn't working. I didn't know what I was getting wrong, but it was taking a lot of effort to keep it going, and while it was cooling an area, I could probably get it colder by just freezing the fog and rain as I went. I did just that as I traveled. As an afterthought, I tore off the flickering armor on my forearms, and coated my arms in a thick sheath of cooled, purified rainwater. Burns needed cold, clean water to treat, and if I was on search and rescue, I'd probably see a few.

The first group didn't have any familiar faces. As I got closer, I realized they weren't really a group, either. In fact, they were facing off, and voices were raised. An argument?

I landed nearby, bringing the argument to a halt. I imagined I might have looked strange. A kid with water tentacles for arms and flashing, damaged armor, who brought a wave of cooled air with him? I'd pause for something like that.

"What is it?" A man in a bright khaki costume asked, his voice curt.

I thought a moment, then formed my watery limbs into a crude cross, for first aid.

"You should go, _keend_ ," a woman from the other group said. "This doesn't concern you."

So it was an argument, then. Wasn't there a truce? If they had disagreements, they should wait until the fight was over, because the giant demon behind us was going to kill us all if we didn't work together.

I pointed towards the fight, confusion and frustration on my face.

"Fok the First, and fok you, _keend_ ," another man yelled from the woman's group. His dark skin glistened with sweat in the flickering light, his brow furrowing in anger. "You _khakis_ are all da same!"

"Hey, you watch your mouths, _boewe_ ," a woman from the khaki man's group yelled, "He's just a kid!"

The two groups started yelling, insults and harsh tones on both sides, as I stared, dumbfounded. They really were fighting. Right here, less than two blocks from the _real_ battle, these stupid people were fighting! And for what? As far as I saw, the only real difference was… skin color.

Oh. Crap.

I thought back to the city I'd seen on the way to the fight. Separated, unequal.

I couldn't believe it took me this long to put it together. The whole city was segregated.

…Racism. It was petty, and cruel, and had no right to exist in any sane society.

In front of me, the two groups bickered.

No more.

I stomped my foot, sending a massive crack through the pavement between the two groups, splitting the intersection down the middle. A matching crack drowned out all noise nearby for a deafening moment.

Then, there was silence. The arguments had stopped, and they'd all turned my way.

I carefully, carefully gestured, not wanting my anger to affect my movements. Started selectively freezing raindrops in front of myself, then floating up some dust into them to make it muddy and readable.

 **STOP** , I spelled.

With a scuff of one foot away from the group, I made a spear of concrete as large as a car come up from the ground on the far side of them, pointing it towards the fight. Then, as an afterthought, I lifted a wall between the two groups, dropping the water word to do so.

One of them protested, but I'd already turned and jumped away.

Let them fight if they would, but I was done. My immediate anger was settling into a cold simmer of frustration, and I was tired of playing at peacemaker between a group of racists and a group of assholes. I wanted to help people, and they'd made me waste valuable time keeping them on task, and I was just… done.

I returned to the rooftops, redoubling my search for injured, my efforts to cool the area, and my general haste.

This led me to be a bit too focused when a familiar voice called out from behind me, taking me by surprise. I slipped on the slick rooftop, only saving myself from a faceplant with a blast of wind that sent me flying back the other way. I managed to stumble into a crouch as I felt the strange mass of air come closer. Shadow Stalker! Finally, someone I could work with, or at least work alongside.

"Mandala," she called out again as she landed on the far side of the roof. I silently thanked my luck that she hadn't pointed out my stumbling, and turned to wave.

She skidded to a stop on the graveled rooftop, then made a point to look me up and down. She was in pretty good condition, considering the situation; some burnt cloth on her cowl and costume, a small bandage on her forearm, and she was missing a crossbow, but she looked a fair bit better than I did.

"You look like crap," she said with a nod. "Which figures, since the armband's called your death a few times. What the hell did you do to piss off the big guy that much?"

I went to sign a brief summary, but realized she wouldn't know any ASL. I shrugged, unable to convey anything meaningful. The conversation stalled, leaving behind only the haunting sounds of battle and the patter of rain.

I gestured at her, urging her to lead onward. I also used the motion to dry her costume a bit, quietly seeping the water out of her boots and clothing so she'd be more comfortable.

"You want to join me on S and R?" she asked. I nodded, and she nodded back. "Follow me, and keep doing whatever you did to make this area so cool."

She jumped off the rooftops, and I followed on a cushion of wind. Once I hit the street, she took off down an alley, heading closer into the fight. Her armband chirped, and I just barely heard it chirp a series of letters and numbers. She glanced at the screen. "This way!" she yelled back, switching back to her shadowy form a moment later. I sped up by funneling air behind me, keeping pace. We turned a right, then a left, then a right again, ran for another minute, and came to the location indicated by Stalker's armband.

We were obviously near the path of destruction left by Behemoth, probably just minutes before. Everything was on fire; trees, asphalt, brick and mortar, a steel lump that used to be a car. The buildings were sagging, listing alarmingly thanks to the heat. A street or two down, the road simply ceased to exist, replaced by a rugged scar of torn up and melted civilization that would stretch north and south from there.

I immediately started carving out a path of freshly re-hardened asphalt, a glassy black in the sea of red light and smoke. With that done, I went to work clearing the fires, bending the elements to my will with all my skill. In moments, it was clear enough to see the finer details; a pair of capes, smoking and charred. Only one was moving.

Stalker walked over, checked the still figure's pulse, and stood without comment. I moved to the other, reaching out with my watery arms to cool her burns. She screamed at the contact, and I fought to keep my control at the sudden outburst. Her screams died to a whimper, unintelligible and foreign in cadence. I steeled myself and drew closer, transferring the water from my arms to envelop her torso like a cocoon, willing her to get better.

The water started glowing, singing loudly with power.

I jumped back, and the water splashed down to form a puddle beneath the woman.

What the heck did I just do?

She moaned in pain, then pleaded for me to continue in broken English. "Again," she said, opening her eyes behind the silver mask. I nodded, and tentatively tried again. More water, cooled and purified, was gathered around my arms. Stalker walked over just in time to see my second try.

Nothing happened.

I mean, the woman sighed in relief, but there was no glow, just cool water that I kept having to separate blood from. What had happened, then? Did I imagine the glow? Did the woman do something, and the rush of energy I 'felt' was just some weird power interaction?

God, I'd give an arm to be able to talk again. So many questions burned at my brain, and I couldn't ask anyone for answers.

At Stalker's direction, I lifted the woman in a sleeve of cooled water, careful to keep her body in the same position as she had been. Stalker tied bandages over the worst wounds, and I put her down while she put in a call for a flier or teleporter for hospital transport. I made a bench of stone next to the woman, and we waited.

A distant roar rang out, loud enough to rattle pebbles on the ground around us. Shadow Stalker spoke after it faded, irritation clear in her voice.

"We should be over there," she fumed, "not out here. Search and Rescue sucks."

I nodded. She was right, in a way. I could be doing more, saving more, if I was in the fight. She could help more people if she was closer. Maybe a phased crossbow bolt could hit something important, if she had a chance.

"I've probably done this twenty times today, and it always feels like a chore. Half of them were racist, and the other half were weak and broken. What good is saving one person, or even two, right? They probably wouldn't make it anyway."

I didn't respond. Couldn't, anyway. She was wrong about the value of helping these people, but she wasn't _wrong_. The hospital was overcrowded, the capes capable of healing few and far between. The screams still lingered in my thoughts. I could be preventing those screams, if I just got over my- was it fear? Fear. Not for my life, but of the consequences if I messed up again. I still had only the vaguest idea of what happened earlier, but that idea wasn't good.

"We should be there, in the fight," she reiterated. "We can't do shit from here." She fell silent after that.

A cape flew in, and I let the water flow away from the barely conscious woman. She whimpered as the air brushed against her blistered skin, then cried out as we helped her into the flier's arms.

There were no screams. She didn't have the energy left for screams.

We left the charred body of the other cape behind, and by some unspoken agreement, headed straight for the fight.


End file.
